#if it happens again however i guess i will have learn my lesson

[mitamicah]

Took a chance with suggestion ("requesting") stuff from a popular creator today. I really hope it doesnt end like last time where I got laughed in the face for even thinking that they would accept requests 🤡

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN

previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3

You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.

There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.

And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.

On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.

Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"

Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.

"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."

Fuck.

"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.

In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.

That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.

guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.

You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:

Rough. Get some sleep x

This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.

It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.

You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.

you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe

right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.

now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.

telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr

but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.

exactly

i wish you guys were here :(

i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.

--

"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."

Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"

Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."

"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.

You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.

hope you had a good day :)

I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x

Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?

can you call me tonight?

You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.

"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"

You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."

She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.

"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"

She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."

You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?

Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.

"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.

"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.

Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.

"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."

She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."

"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."

You make a face, "Mom..."

She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."

You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.

"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.

Your mouth can't stop itself.

"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"

She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.

Checkmate.

--

I will when I get home.

Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.

"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"

"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."

Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.

You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.

"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."

You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.

"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.

"Are you drunk?"

He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."

You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"

He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."

He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."

He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."

"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."

You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."

"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."

"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."

"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"

"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."

He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.

"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."

"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.

"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."

Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."

"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."

"But why?"

Another sigh, then-

"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."

You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."

He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.

"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."

You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.

"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."

"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"

You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."

"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.

"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"

You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."

The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.

"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."

He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."

His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.

"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."

He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, J-"

"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"

You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."

"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"

You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Joel."

You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:

"Hope I dream about you."

You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.

--

You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.

She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.

"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."

She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.

Silent treatment. Typical.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.

"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.

You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.

"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.

Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.

Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.

"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"

You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.

"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"

You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."

She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"

"English Lit."

She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."

Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."

"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."

She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."

Great start.

You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.

Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."

You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.

It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.

You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:

How's your day going angel?

He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.

"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."

--

The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:

well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕

You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:

Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.

You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:

And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x

But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.

Oh.

You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.

You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He replies seconds later:

Fuck

A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:

Send me another baby. Please.

Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:

better?

He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.

Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.

i know :)

You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.

"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.

This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.

Jesus Christ

He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.

Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.

thank you mr. miller :)

Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?

Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.

Oh sweetheart. Look at that.

You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:

Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?

You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.

you. it's yours mr. miller.

That's right. Good girl.

Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.

i'm really wet now :(

I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?

Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.

yes please

Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:

Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.

i promise x

Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.

The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.

“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.

“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.

Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.

Shit.

You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.

Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?

--

Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.

You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.

The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.

You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.

"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.

“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”

"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."

"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.

"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”

“Bethany, I-”

“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”

My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.

"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”

It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.

--

Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.

The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.

“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.

“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?

“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, still staring at the floor.

“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.

His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.

“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”

“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”

You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.

He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.

He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.

Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”

You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.

You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.

And he listens.

He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.

“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”

“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”

You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.

“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”

Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.

“Give it to me,” he says quietly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.

“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”

You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”

Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.

And just like that, the weight is gone.

--

You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.

You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.

“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.

“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.

“Are you naked?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”

You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.

“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”

You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."

Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.

He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."

You don't need telling twice either.

The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.

You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.

"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.

You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."

"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.

You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."

His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."

You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"

He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."

You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.

"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."

"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"

"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."

His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.

"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.

Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.

"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."

He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.

"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.

He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.

He really means it, you know he does.

"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."

And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.

--

You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.

Good morning.

He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.

You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.

"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.

No response.

"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.

"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"

It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.

His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.

"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."

His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.

"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.

He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."

And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.

"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.

"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.

"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.

"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.

You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."

You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."

His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.

"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"

You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."

Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.

"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"

You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.

"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.

"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."

He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."

He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."

You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."

He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."

You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."

"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."

He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.

"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.

--

He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.

"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"

"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."

You end up making toast instead.

"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."

"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.

You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.

"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes."

That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.

"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."

Yes please.

You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.

"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.

"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.

"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.

He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"

You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.

He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."

You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.

"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."

God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.

"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"

"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."

"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"

"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock."

"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."

Oh fuck.

"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."

"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."

You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."

"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"

You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.

"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."

After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.

"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.

You're too blissed out to tease him back.

--

The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.

"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."

You'd practically melted down his front steps.

"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.

"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."

"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."

"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."

--

You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.

"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."

"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."

"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."

You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.

"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"

"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.

"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."

"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."

"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."

"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."

"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."

You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.

"He is," you murmur softly.

--

You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?

"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.

You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.

Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.

"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"

You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."

"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.

The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."

You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.

"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."

You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.

"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.

"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"

You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."

She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"

You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?

"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"

"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.

"And what's his hair color?"

You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."

Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"

"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.

"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.

"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.

There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.

He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.

You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.

You feel your heart in your throat.

There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.

No. No, something isn't right.

Maybe it's not him.

Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.

A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.

No. Please no.

A woman who he kisses back.

This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.

His hand comes up to cup her face.

"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.

You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.

"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."

[lucy90712]

Hi could you do a imagine for Ruben Dias ? Maybe like a reader in uni who is sassy who uses bro and dude when talking to him and he doesn’t like it

A/N sorry I changed it up a bit as I didn’t think I’ve ever called someone bro in my life and it just didn’t come out right when I wrote it "He's totally staring at you girl" my best friend said 

"I know he's been doing it since we got here" I said

"Then why aren't you over there talking to him or making out with him I know I would be" she laughed 

"If he wants me he'll have to come over here I'm not doing anything" I said 

She shook her head at me before going back to the guy she's been dancing with all night. I however have been sat at a table with a drink all night as I didn't really want to come to the club but my friends all dragged me out anyway so I'm just here to keep them safe. This one guy has been staring at me all night and I'm sure he's waiting for me to come over to him but it's not going to happen I'm not here to flirt with anyone so he's going to have to make the effort. It feels like a bit of a standoff but what he doesn't know is that I will never give in I will leave here without having spoken a word to him as I couldn't care less about having to shout over the music to speak to a guy in the club no matter who they are. 

Other people would kill to be me right now and I know that but having Ruben Dias checking me out doesn't really phase me. I know exactly who he is I mean who in Manchester doesn't I just simply don't care. Football is never something I've cared about my dad never really watched it so I didn't grow up caring about it so why should I do it now. Now if it was Harry styles staring at me from across the club I would've got up and talked to him hours ago I'm not immune to the stare of a hot famous man but a footballer is a different matter. They probably have a bad reputation but I've heard far too many stories about footballers cheating or taking advantage of girls and I don't want to be part of that Ruben could be a nice guy but to me it's not worth the risk.

My peace didn't last much longer as before I knew it I felt the presence of someone moving towards me then someone sat in the chair next to me. I knew exactly who it was but I still didn't look over as I'm still not giving in. I've decided that my fun tonight is going to be showing Ruben Dias he can't have every girl he sees whenever he wants which I think is a valuable lesson to learn. 

"Hey I'm Ruben I see you've been sat here alone all night and thought you could use some company" he finally said to me 

"If you really thought that you would've come over here hours ago instead of staring from across the club so try again" I said 

"Ok you're right I thought you were cute so I wanted to come and talk to you" he admitted 

"Thought huh guess I'm not as cute up close" I quipped 

"No thats not what I meant you are still cute up close probably even more beautiful now I can see you better" he flirted 

"Thanks man" I said giving him absolutely nothing 

"You don't have a boyfriend do you?" He asked clearly confused by my lack of care

"Nope" I replied rookie mistake 

He took that answer and ran with it. He kept talking at me trying to get something from me but I only said just enough to keep him interested but not enough to give anything away which is actually so much fun. Men can never seem to take a hint unless you spell it out for them and exploiting that is entertaining it makes my otherwise boring night that much better. 

I can't lie Ruben was sweet he flirted with me but he didn't try and go too far, he didn't touch me, he didn't any anything inappropriate he was way more respectful than I thought he would be. His charm was really starting to win me over but I can't be sure that it's not just an act to try and get in my pants which would really upset me as I'm starting to like Ruben. There is no denying Ruben is incredibly attractive but one too many times I've let my life be ruined by hot guys I thought were nice and I'm not going to do that again. If he really wants to get with me he's going to have to prove that he's actually a nice guy and not just putting on an act. 

Just to keep him interested I did let him in slightly because I did want to keep talking to him even if I didn't act like it. The more we spoke the more he proved me wrong with my assumption about footballers he seemed very dedicated to his job and he was definitely much more mature than most guys I've met which is a nice breath of fresh air. Part of me didn't want the night to end but the other part of me knew I needed to get out of there before I get too involved and let yet another man ruin my life for a few months. I also have classes in the morning which I shouldn't miss which was my original excuse for not coming out but that didn't get me far with my friends so hopefully it will work with Ruben. 

"I really should leave I've got classes tomorrow" I said 

"Do you need me to walk you home or I can drive I haven't been drinking so I'm good to drive" he offered 

"No I'm ok I don't live far and I've not drunk enough to not know where I am thanks though" I said 

"Wait before you go can I at least get your number?" He asked 

"Sure" I replied writing down my number on his hand with the pen I always have with me

~~~~~~~~~~

Since I met Ruben a few days ago he's been all I thought about when I get in bed at the end of the day. He hasn't text me yet but every day I look at my phone hoping to see a text from him. I don't know what happened to me I never wanted to get involved with a footballer in any capacity but now I'm waiting on one to text me. It's all my fault I spent some time the day after we met watching videos of Ruben play and scrolling through his instagram and then I understood how all these people fall for these guys even though I swore I never would. I so badly want to be unbothered but I can't he's sucked me in and I'm under his stupid spell which I don’t really want to escape.

To take my mind off Ruben,who has probably forgotten about my existence after finding another girl who was more receptive to his advances, I decided to go to my nearest coffee shop to work on some of my essays. This place is my favourite place to work as it's quiet and there's good coffee and cakes what more can you ask for. As soon as I stepped inside the barista that is there every time I go smiled and started to get my usual order ready like she always does now she remembers what I order. Like always we caught up quickly while she made my drink before I went and sat at my usual table to start working. Just as I was about to start writing I got a text from a random number which was from Ruben. My heart skipped a beat when I realised he finally text me but then I had to chastise myself for being so desperate. 

Ruben

Hey it's Ruben we met the other night I was wondering if you'd like to get coffee together some time 

You 

Hey I wouldn't mind that I'm at a coffee shop right now doing some work if you want to come by otherwise I'm not sure when I'm free 

Ruben 

What the address I'll be there 

I hated myself for what I wrote but I wanted him to think that I hadn't been stalking him the last few days. He seemed to like the fact that I didn't want him or wouldn't make it easy and it's probably for the best that I keep that act up so I can work out if he's truly interested in me or not. Within a few minutes Ruben walked in and came to join me at my table in the corner, he sat across from me smiling until I shut my laptop which is when he finally said hi. He asked me if I wanted anything before he went to order himself a drink which earned me a few confused looks from the barista as to why Ruben Dias was sitting with me. 

As soon as he came back we started talking like we did in the club but this time I let him into my world a little bit more I told him about my degree and my friends and family. He was open with me too he told me more about his career and his life outside of football. He was making to very difficult not to fall for him in an instant, I want to give in to what I'm feeling so badly but I also don't want to get hurt. The fact that he was willing to come here on a whim to talk to me more when I haven't exactly been the most friendly person ever shows me that he isn't a compete dickhead at the very least. I did confide in my best friend after I met Ruben and she told me she'd heard nothing but good things about him from other people who have met him which I was skeptical of but now I see it. 

We had a really lovely time together and this time when Ruben asked if he could walk me home I accepted. I was a little worried he'd judge my apartment building as its not exactly the nicest but it's what I can afford while still studying. To my surprise Ruben loved the street I live on he liked that there was more character to the place and it wasn't just tall skyscrapers made with far too much glass. My flat is on the bottom floor so Ruben got to see the plants I keep just outside the windows which aren't exactly flourishing but they aren't dead either which for me is pretty good, seeing them he complimented my gardening skills and told me they looked pretty. While I was there I decided to reach in and pick a flower which I reached up to put behind his ear which made us both laugh. 

"Thank you I'm sure I look so much prettier now" he laughed 

"You look gorgeous" I said 

"Anyway thanks for joining me today I had a good time I'd like to see you again but you should know that I'm not looking for a fuck buddy I want to date properly" I said 

"Don't worry I'm not in this just for sex I really genuinely like you and I'm willing to go at whatever pace you feel comfortable with" he said 

"Thank you how about we start with a proper date somewhen" I suggested 

"I'd love that I'll text you" he said 

He pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before leaving to make his way back home while I stood in my doorway blushing and smiling like an idiot. Who knew playing hard to get would end so well. 

[bloodybreakupscene]

I wanted to request maybe a 1610! Miles morales drabble, where the reader has selective mutism and is really quiet around Miles for awhile. But they get put in a group project together and Miles hears their voice for the first time when they laugh at something he said!! ^^

-> 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒.

miles morales x reader

-> miles and you get partnered for a project and u laugh and hes like wowza and falls in love (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

-> omg tysm for the request!! this idea was too cute i love it sm for realsies (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)!! and another tysm for everyone else who liked my other miles post! the amount of likes and reblogs was overwhelming sweet i love u guys sm ☆ (⁠��⁠▽⁠≦⁠) ☆

"alright, with that lesson out of the way let's practice what we've learned with your table partner!" the teacher exclaimed, some students groaned and some laughed, both reactions at the direction of working with each other's desk partners.

art was one of the two subjects you actually enjoyed during school, the work wasn't a hassle and it also didn't force you to speak to others, you never did well with certain settings, however in those that you were actually familiar with you did fine. your partner, one of your newer friends, miles morales, turned towards you.

"what do you think we should do?" he asks, you shrugged your shoulders, the canvas paper that lie on the table remained untouched.

"hmm, i'm terrible at realism, so maybe we can do somethin' simple. . . like buildings!" he leans his head on his hand, awaiting your reaction. you nod your head, and grab your guys' shared painting supplies.

as you guys are painting, miles steals a few glances at your relaxed face. he admired many of your facial features and habits, the way your shoulders raised a bit when you were focused, how the shine in your eyes seemed to brighten when you saw or noticed something that peaked your interest. he's never heard your voice, he figured it was something personal so he never asked—

you laughed. miles, suddenly, broken out of this odd trance, looked at you covering your mouth, laughing. "what?" he questioned, laughing a bit as well, your giggling must be contagious.

"nothing! you just looked, really, focused. i thought it was funny." you spoke, explaining yourself, putting the brush down.

"excuse you." he glared, no malicious intent behind it, "art just so happens to be one of my many expertises."

"pfft, as if. you have more paint on your hand than on the canvas." he looks down at his right hand and you were right, different colors of paint were all over his hand.

"just means i'm a part of the canvas." he jokes, and thank god he did because it made you laugh again. a big smile covers his face and he can't help but replicate your reaction as well.

"you're funny i guess." you rolled your eyes, looking down at the painting you guys made.

"you guess? i didn't even have to do anything to make you laugh the first time." he playfully teases you.

"sure sure whatever." you respond, acting annoyed at his little joke.

miles can't help the huge smile that's still plastered on face, your voice is so sweet, it's got him kicking his feet and blushing, you don't even know the kind of effect that you have on him. he never thought that he was the hopeless romantic type until this very moment, but he can't help it! he's already fallen head over heels in love with you.

[spacebaby1]

Ghost of you (Law Trafalgar x Reader. ft Cora-San) Part 1

Your captain Law had warned you to stay away from the cold water in the dead of winter, but you just never seemed to listen to him, and it caught up to you. You were burning with a fever now and unable to leave your bed.

Law sighed as he placed the cold cloth on your forehead as Shachi and Bepo were hovering over their captain's shoulder, 'Why don't you ever listen to a word I say? Now you are burning with cold! Have you learned your lesson?' Law didn't mean to sound harsh, but you were sick, and he was terrified for you. You babbled something under your breath that he didn't understand.

'Is she going to be okay?' Bepo asked worriedly. Shachi joined, 'She's been like this for a week! Captain do something.' With a sigh, Law checked your forehead, still nothing changed. 'Okay, you two keep changing the clothes every two minutes and I will go find some medicine for her, don't be too loud, it might give her a headache.' Both Bepo and Shachi took their seat beside you after Law left to his office.

Later that night, Law gave you some medicines that helped you sleep better since you were having a hard time sleeping because of your fever. When you were fast asleep, Law got up to leave, closing the door behind him. Later that night, you woke up still a bit drowsy from the medicines, hardly able to open your eyes with the dim light shining in the room. You felt cold hands being placed on your head, you sighed in relief; at first you thought its probably your captain but you remembered that Law had really warm hands and these were very cold; Ice cold. But you couldn't open your eyes to look at the person that had their hands on your forehead howeve, suddenly you felt your body calmed down, as if the fever left your body and you fell back asleep.

The next morning, you were feeling much better. You were up when Law entered your room to find you sitting on the bed rubbing your forehead, 'why are you up? You need to sleep. You are bur-' he placed his hands to feel your head but frowned when he noticed your body wasn't warm like last night, he removed his hand, 'looks like the medicines worked, I'm glad you look better than yesterday. Do you feel better?'

You nodded, 'I feel better than before. Captain, can I ask you something?' Law nodded. 'Who was in the room last night?' He thought for a minute, 'No one? Why? Did Bepo disturb your sleep again?' You shook your head, 'No, no, it wasn't Bepo. I'd know if it was Bepo but I felt hands on my head and I thought it might be you but your hands are usually-' you took his hands in yours; they were warm, 'Huh, warm.'

'You are saying there was someone in your room last night? Cold hands?' He asked, thinking you might have a dream. You nodded, 'I guess, but I'm not sure I might be dreaming too, but it felt real.' You scratched your head. Law placed a hand on your head, 'it was probably a dream. You need to rest today, okay? I will tell Shachi to bring your breakfast here and try to rest. Don't go outside. it's still a bit cold.' You nodded, and he smiled before walking out of the room. You decided to nap a bit more after having your lunch later that day. By dinner, Shachi and Bepo brought your food and told you about the week you've been sick and everything that happened.

They left shortly after Law came by to give you the medicines. He told them that you needed to sleep more so you would be well rested. You waved them goodbye before taking your medicine and going to bed.

You woke up in the middle of the night feeling cold and had forgotten to put your sweater on before bed. Groggily you pushed the blanket to side and got up making your way to the closet before pulling out a gray sweater and putting it on but you stopped mid way when your eyes widened; from the corner of your eyes you saw a tall figure sitting on the edge of your bed near the window looking outside. Your blood ran cold as you blinked twice making sure you weren't hallucinating the person sitting there looking out of the window when suddenly he looked at you; the dim light in the room showed his sharp eyes and a painted red smile like a joker. He noticed that you can see him and his eyes widened causing you to scream in fear as you ran out of your room struggling to open the door before you actually managed to leave the room running to your captain and immediately Law threw open his door when he heard your screaming.

He was rushing to your room and you bumped into him in the hallway, yelping in fear when you bumped into him but immediately wrapped your arms around him when you noticed it was your captain, 'C-Capt- t-there i-is someone there! M-my room. Captain, there is someone in my room-hes big a-and scary-'

'You can see me?' You heard a voice and looked behind, still hugging your captain to save you from whoever that was. You screamed in fear when you noticed that same person standing few feet from you, you immediately let go of Law and hid behind him holding on his hoodie for dear life as your Captain just stood there looking at you like you had two heads and you pointed ahead but Law saw...nothing.

Meanwhile, you could literally see a man there standing. Why wasn't your captain reacting? 'M-Man- That man! Who is he? Captain?' You asked in a low voice as Law looked ahead then back at you, 'Darling, there is no one here.' The words hit you like a brick when you could clearly see that man standing there! He was there! Was your captain messing with you?

You refused to let go of Law's hoodie, the man got closer to you and you cried in your captain's side holding him so tight that you could rip his hoodie so Law sighed and turned you around and you hugged him tight still not looking at the other tall man, he placed his hand on your head and whispered something...'Calm.' You felt yourself calm down and slowly opened your eyes to look at Law; it was the same hand from last night, you recognised them.

Law was confused as to what was happening? Were the medicines making you hallucinate? He saw the fear in your eyes as you spoke, 'Captain, there's someone standing right next to me, help me.' Few tears fell down your cheeks, and Law felt the shivers as he wrapped both his arms around you protectively; there was no way you were hallucinating, but was this a ghost.

'I'm not going to hurt you, promise' the man spoke to you as you placed your head deep into your captain's chest now the moment his hands were on your head, 'tell him it's Cora-San, please...' You hesitated before you whispered it to Law, 'C-Captain, he-he said C-Cora-sa'

Before you could finish the sentence, Law spoke, 'Cora-San?' In shock, and you nodded, not sure what was going on, but it was terrifying you.

[sara-scribbles]

The Prince's Tutor

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Leona Kingscholar/GN!Reader Summary: You're hired as Cheka's personal tutor. While working, you get to know the second prince, Leona. Notes: Just something I've had partially written and wanted to finish. I guess this would be in line with my royalty AU I did with Malleus. This also exhausts the list of actually royal characters from the game (does Idia count?). Might have some errors here and there that I missed, sorry in advance! Hope you enjoy all of Cheka's cuteness! Word Count: 9,064 Warnings: Attempted kidnapping, violence, some swearing, Cheka being adorable

As much as Leona wants to ignore his nephew, he can’t turn a blind eye to the fact that a stranger is leading Cheka out of the palace. The naive brat follows without thought as he excitedly chatters. A person he’s never seen before, leads the kid by the hand while nodding enthusiastically.

“Hey!” His voice echoes in the hallways.

Cheka looks around before a smile stretches across his face. “Unca Leona!” The cub lets go of the stranger’s hand to launch himself at Leona.

Grunting as the pint sized twerp barrels into him, he pulls him off immediately by holding him by the back of his shirt and unceremoniously dropping him on the ground. “Where do you think you're goin’, brat?”

“Teacher (Y/N) is taking me to the detached wing for lessons!” The boy isn’t bothered by the rough treatment as he springs back onto his feet.

You offer Leona a tentative smile, which he does not return. “Teacher? You’re the new brat’s tutor?” He sizes you up and isn’t impressed. You're a herbivore for one thing.

Nodding, you bow politely. “Yes. I was recommended by Cheka’s old tutor.”

Though you have no reason to lie, Leona isn’t completely convinced. You look green with the enthusiastic glimmer in your eyes. However, he decides to let it be. It isn’t in his nature to pursue further than needed. As long as it doesn’t seem that you’ll be kidnapping the furball, Leona’s fine. 

Waving you off, he turns around to head to his room. “Ya whatever you say.”

---

“Who was that?” you ask Cheka.

“That’s unca Leona! He’s the bestest unca!” the boy explains. His eyes sparkle with joy, and you can’t help but smile back.

You had heard of the royal family, though you hadn’t had much time to study the lineage before arriving. Seeing the beastman glare at you was a first. Cheka’s father was very welcoming and open when you met him briefly. You chalk it up as everyone having their own personalities and quickly forget the encounter. No use worrying about things that are none of your business.

Arriving at the detached wing of the palace, you enter the large library. Once you have Cheka settled, you start on the first lesson. “We’ll be learning about the history of magic. Let’s start with how magic first came to be…”

---

Later in the day, Leona happens upon you again. This time, you’re talking with his brother, or at least trying to. Farena’s too distracted with Cheka to really pay you any mind, and the expression on your face shows your growing irritation.

Leona tries to slink away without being noticed, but the fuzzball immediately catches him. It’s like his nephew can sense him from miles away. “Unca Leona!”

Hopping down from his father’s hold, Cheka runs up to him and wraps his short arms around his leg. “Let go,” Leona grunts through gritted teeth.

Cheka beams up at him as he clings on. “Today I learned about the history of magic! Did you know that magic existed a long, long time ago?!”

Rubbing his temples, he sighs, “Yes. Now, get off, brat.”

“Leona!” Farena comes over and claps him heartily on the back. “Have you met, (Y/N)?”

You give him another polite smile though he sees the way the corner of your mouth twitches downward. You’re gripping a stack of papers tight enough to wrinkle them. 

He scoffs and shrugs off his brother’s hold. “Yes. Tell your son to let go of my leg.”

Farena chuckles. “He just misses his uncle!”

Coughing, you interject. “Your highness I-”

“Please call me Farena. I insist!” he interrupts, giving you a blinding smile.

Lips pressing into a thin line, you look put out. “Your highness, I do need to go over the rest of the curriculum with you. I’d like to know if you think these will be suitable for your son.”

Waving you off, his brother takes the stack of papers you hold out. “Alright, alright. I’ll look at these later tonight and let you know tomorrow.”

Sighing, you bow. “Thank you, your highness. If you’ll excuse me, I still have to finish settling in.” You give them both one last bow before making a hasty retreat.

Scratching his ear, Leona watches as you disappear. “Where’d you find this one?” he asks, a bit interested as you don’t seem dazzled by his brother like everyone else. He wonders how long that will last.

“(Y/N) comes from the Queendom of Roses. And came with high praise from many teachers and scholars.” Farena glances down at the documents. “It seems they are very meticulous.”

During the conversation, Cheka had released Leona’s leg. Climbing onto his father’s back, the boy hangs there while peeping at the documents. “What does that say, papa?”

Farena chortles, “It says a lot of work for papa tonight. I’ll see you later, brother!” Leona is finally left in peace. There’s not much to do, though. It’s not like anyone expects anything of him.

He decides to find a place to nap. Like always.

---

A few days pass since that encounter, when Leona bumps into you again. Quite literally this time.

Papers fly in the air like snow. “Aaach!” You fall back on your butt with a thump before giving him a withering look. 

Leona stands there above you as the papers fall to the ground. He didn’t even move back an inch when you bumped into him. “Ya goin’ somewhere, herbivore?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. Guess non-beastmen are all weak if a little bump sends you tumbling to the ground.

“...” You don’t bother to respond as you gather your scattered documents. 

Picking up one that landed on his foot, Leona quickly scans it. “Is this the brat’s curriculum?”

“Yes. I made some edits since your brother thought the last one was too much for Cheka,” you reply. He catches the frown that quickly fades into a neutral expression.

From the looks of the one sheet, you plan to teach Cheka basic magic and runes. Something most kids his age would not be learning until a few years later. “He might be right.” Knowing Cheka, the little furball will quickly lose interest.

Huffing, you snatch the paper out of his hand. “I believe he can do it. He showed great interest in the history of magic and learning fundamentals during our first session. He just needs to be engaged.”

“And how do ya plan to engage a six year old?” The boy has too much energy for Leona’s taste. Even Cheka’s old tutor had a hard time keeping him on track. He liked to ask too many questions that would quickly spiral out of control.

For the first time that day, you grin. “I have my ways, your highness.”

His ears twitch. “Hmm… Have fun with the twerp.” He walks past you without another glance.

---

“Now I want you to visualize the broccoli,” you tell Cheka. The young boy stares at the plate with the single broccoli you placed in front of him. “They look like small trees, don’t they?”

Cheka nods. “Yeah! They’re like small green trees!”

“Right! So imagine reaching forward and plucking this small tree from the plate.” You watch as the boy’s brows furrow deeply. His golden gaze is focused on the broccoli. Finally, he slumps forward.

“Nothing happened…” he pouts.

Ruffling his hair, you gently encourage him, “Don’t worry, Cheka. These things take time. You’ll get it soon!”

Though he smiles back at you, you notice it isn’t as bright. “Alright. Let’s do something else.” Clapping your hands together, you rummage through the trunk of things you had brought from home. “We’re going to do a reenactment of a myth”

“Reenactment?” Cheka pops the broccoli in his mouth without you noticing.

You hand over a few props. “It means we’ll be putting on a play pretending to be the characters of the story.”

“Papa and I play pretend all the time!” Excitement shines in his eyes as he takes the offered clothes.

Beaming, you put on a hat. “Then you’ll be a pro at this!”

Unbeknownst to you, a certain lion is sitting further in the back of the library on a windowsill. He chuckles as he listens to you start the story.

---

“So you like chess?” Your voice interrupts his thought process. A little annoyed to be disturbed, he gives you a glare but it doesn’t phase you.

“And so what if I do?” He should have played in his room in peace. But it’s being cleaned at the moment, so he had to find a different place away from others. Hence being in the library you use for Cheka’s lessons.

Shrugging, you tap the queen. “I learned a bit but never could actually grasp the game. It takes a lot of skill and foresight to be good. I don’t know much but looking at the board, I’m assuming you're a pro. That’s amazing.”

A compliment is not something he expected to hear from you. Nor is it something he’s heard in a long time. “The thing about chess is that you can play it alone. You don’t need anyone else,” he mutters.

Moving away, you bow. “Sorry to disturb you, your highness.” 

You turn to leave, but he stops you. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t like a match…”

Your eyes widen a fraction as he notes a small smile form on your face. “I don’t think I’ll be much of a challenge.”

He shrugs and gestures to the chair opposite. You sit down as he places the pieces back to their starting positions. “Take it as a chance to learn from a master.”

“A very humble master,” you tease before focusing on the board.

And true to your word, you aren’t much of a challenge. He manages to beat you in five moves. Despite losing so quickly you ask for another game. Occasionally you ask about certain pieces as your memory of the game is hazy. Despite beating you multiple times, Leona finds it entertaining. You don’t get discouraged even after losing every time. And you don’t lose as quickly each time.

Leaning back, you let out a sigh, “I think I’m all chessed out.”

He tips the queen on the board back and forth. “You’re not bad. You learn quickly. With some practice, you could get better.”

“Maybe even good enough to beat you?” you ask.

Smirking, he flicks the queen on its side. It rolls across the board to you. “Not even in your dreams, herbivore.”

You let out a laugh that lights up your face. For once you don’t have the stern teacher facade he’s seen you wear most times. Only with Cheka do you look like you’re enjoying yourself. He still remembers the sound of your voice as it fell and rose while you pretended to be different characters. You're much more animated when you’re relaxed and let your guard down.

---

Leona wishes he could be anywhere but here. Farena’s wife had foisted Cheka onto him just as he was going out. She knew he couldn’t say no, and so today he’s on babysitting duties. Where’s the brat’s nanny?

“Unca Leona! Look!” Cheka points to a small pastry stall. Rows upon rows of sweets and confections are on display. From the looks of it, the seller is not from around the area. The young cub eagerly runs over while Leona follows at a leisurely stroll.

Cheka presses his face against the glass case. “Can I have one, huh??”

“Yeah, whatever.” It’s not his fault if the kid eats sweets before dinner.

As the young boy eagerly points to a chocolate covered treat, the stall owner rings him up. “That will be 500 thaumarks.”

Leona stares at him blankly as Cheka is already eating the treat. “I don’t have money. Just bill it to the royal account.”

The stall owner nervously looks between him and his nephew. “I-I’m sorry, sir?” The confusion is written all over his face. Leona feels his irritation grow.

“I don’t carry money on me. Just go to the palace and ask to be paid. They’ll know what to do.” He starts to turn away, but the stall owner is still persistent.

“P-please wait a s-second!” This is why he doesn’t deal with non-locals, they don’t know the rules.

“Unca Leona, are we going to jail?” Cheka asks, golden eyes wide.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Leona almost snaps at the stall owner when a familiar voice calls to them. “Leona? Cheka?”

You’re carrying an armful of groceries as you near them. Dressed in more casual clothes, he almost doesn’t recognize you. Cheka grins as he bounds over. He wraps his arms around your waist, nearly making you lose your balance.

“(Y/N)! What are you doing here?” You set down the bags to give him a proper hug.

“I was doing some grocery shopping. What about you?” Your brows draw together as you chuckle. “You have chocolate all over your mouth, Cheka.”

The boy furiously rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. “Unca Leona and I are spending the day together! But since he doesn’t carry money, we’re going to jail.” He nods solemnly.

You tilt your head to the side as you give Leona a questioning look. “We ain’t goin’ to jail, brat!”

“I would hope not. You’re too cute for jail, Cheka,” you joke. Pulling out your wallet, you glance at the stall owner. “I can pay.”

“Yaya!” Cheka cheers as he jumps in the air. 

You hand over the money. Picking your groceries back up, you ruffle his hair. “My treat. I’m done for the day, so I’ll be heading back.”

Before Leona can say anything, Cheka follows after you as he calls over his shoulder, “Let’s go, Unca Leona!”

Muttering under his breath about being bossed around, Leona reluctantly follows. As Cheka runs ahead, you glance at the lion with an amused smile. “So, the great prince Leona was about to go to jail?”

Snorting, he crosses his arms over his chest. “As if. I’ve never had issues with paying. Everyone knows to bill it to the royal account. Apparently you out of towners know nothing.”

“Royal account? It must be nice to not worry about having to carry money.” Shaking your head, you can’t imagine the life he lives. “Maybe just carry a bit around just in case something like this happens again. I won’t always be there to bail you out.”

“As if I need you to.” He rolls his eyes before grabbing one of your bags.

“Hey!”

“You’re only holding us up by carryin’ all those,” he scoffs.

He can feel your stare but resolutely looks forward. “Thank you,” you mumble as you catch up to his long strides.

---

Most people in the palace know not to linger or rest in certain places. Those spots are reserved for a certain lazy lion. So, when Leona arrives at one of his napping spots under the acacia, he’s not pleased to see a figure resting there.

He’s about to kick the intruder out when he realizes it’s you. A book rests face down on your chest. You snooze with your mouth slightly ajar. It’s a funny sight.

His annoyance fades slightly. Too tired to go to another spot, Leona plops down next to you. There’s plenty of space for him. He’ll let the transgression go this time.

Sometime later when he wakes up, you’ve somehow moved so that your head rests against his shoulder. You’re drooling on his shirt sleeve. Clicking his tongue, he pushes you none too gently causing you to fall over and wake up.

“Huh?!” Sitting up, you rub the sleep from your eyes. “L-Leona?”

He sneers at his wet sleeve. “Ya drool like waterfall, herbivore.”

Picking up your book, you apologize, “Sorry… I can pay for it to be cleaned?” you offer, trying to wipe the leftover drool away.

“Tch. Maybe next time you sleep with your mouth closed.” Standing, he stretches and yawns. “Later, herbivore.”

Watching as he leaves, you wonder when he arrived.

---

“Cheka has improved exponentially. I think he’ll be ready for more challenging material in a year or so,” you inform Farena. Giving him Cheka’s mid-year report, you hand him a thick packet with your notes and observations.

Farena browses through the notes. “I’m glad to hear Cheka’s doing so well! He’s such a bright boy, but sometimes has a difficult time staying focused. I can tell you’re doing great work, (Y/N)!”

You bow your head. “Thank you, your highness.”

The door to Farena’s office opens and Cheka pokes his head in. “Papa!”

“Cheka!” The man beams as the young boy runs over to him. He hops into his lap as Farena hugs him. “What brings you here?”

“Unca Leona said I should stop bothering him and come find you,” the boy explains.

Ferna chuckles as he turns to you. “Are we done here?”

You do have a few more things you want to go over, but decide you can save it for another time. “I’m all set. You can keep the report. There's a plan for the next six months you can review and let me know what you think, your highness.”

Giving the prince one last bow, you leave his office. Shutting the door, you head back to your guest residence. Much like the rest of the palace, the guest quarters are just as lavish. There’s a fully functional kitchen, which you have stocked with food. You could have the royal chefs cook for you, but prefer making your own meals.

As you put together dinner, your thoughts wander to a certain second prince. Leona is an interesting character to say the least. He’s the opposite of his warm and friendly brother. Oftentimes you spot him napping in various places. It doesn’t seem like he has any duties and spends his days doing whatever he pleases.

You’ve heard the whispers of the staff. 

He’s the second born, so there are no expectations for him. 

He’s rude, prideful, and arrogant.

He’ll use underhand tricks to get what he wants.

His unique magic is terrifying.

He's good for nothing.

Even gossip has a grain of truth. Yet, you try not to cast judgment on him beyond what you’ve learned from your interactions. Leona is rude, prideful, and arrogant. But he’s also cunning and a brilliant strategist. Though he shows a strong distaste for his nephew, he does watch out for him in his own way. He seems to have a softer side, though he’d probably kill you if you ever said it to his face.

You don’t realize you’re smiling as you think about him.

---

“Unca Leona, can you show me your unique magic?” Cheka asks, his eyes sparkle with curiosity.

Somehow the brat had found him while he was snoozing. He had made sure to hide away from prying eyes as much as possible. Yet, no hiding place is safe from Cheka.

Not even bothering to open his eyes, he tries to shoo him away. “No. Leave me alone.”

Cheka persists. “Please! (Y/N) said everyone has a unique magic and I wanna see yours. Pleeeeeeaaaassssseeeeee!”

Leona sighs, exasperated. “Listen, brat, my unique magic isn’t for fun and games. People can get hurt, and I would rather not get yelled at by your mom.”

The young boy droops. “Okay…”

Rubbing his face, Leona stands up. There’s no napping now. “Where’s your tutor?”

He perks up. “(Y/N) is at the guest house. They said I can always visit whenever I want. Do you wanna visit them too, Unca Leona?”

Leona is already heading in the direction of the guest house. “Yeah, somethin’ like that,” he mutters. Cheka scampers after him eagerly.

Arriving at the guest house, the door is open so he lets himself in. “Oi! Herbivore, you home?”

There’s the sound of crashing and the two follow the noise. In the kitchen, you're picking up a fallen pot. “Leona?” You eye him quizzically as Cheka immediately runs over to you.

“We wanted to visit!” the boy exclaims. He stands on his tiptoes as he eyes the freshly made chocolate chip cookies set on the table.

You hand him one. “What do I owe for this surprise visit?”

“The kid wants to see some unique magic, so I thought since you’re his tutor, you’d be able to show him,” he explains, shaking his head.

You absently hand Cheka another cookie as he makes grabby hands at you. “I guess I could show him. My unique magic is basically useless for combat so it should be safe.”

Turning to the boy, you bite your lip. He has chocolate all over his face. “Come on, Cheka. I’ll show you my unique magic.”

“Yay!” He grabs your hand as you lead him outside. Leona follows quietly behind.

Standing outside, you close your eyes. “Let the green touch the lands wherever I go. Grow! Flourish! Nature’s blessing.”

Suddenly all around you, grass springs up. Wild flowers grow and bloom. Leona watches as a sprout grows taller and taller. It flourishes into a sturdy tree with dark green leaves that shade you from the sun.

“Woah! That’s amazing!” Cheka runs over to the tree to touch the trunk. “It’s real?!”

Bending over with hands on your knees, you catch your breath. “Yup, everything made with my unique magic are real plants. It’s about a ten foot radius all around.” You smile weakly.

Leona reaches up to pluck off a leaf. “To be able to create life from nothin’ is a feat.” He turns to you, green eyes gleaming. “And here I thought you weren’t that impressive, herbivore.”

“Well it’s not like any of this is useful. I can’t grow fruit or anything edible. The plants only last as long as they naturally can in whatever environment it’s currently in.” You plop down in the grass with a sigh. “It uses too much magic, so I’m usually tired afterwards. I guess it could be a neat party trick…”

Cheka is too busy climbing the tree to notice your exhaustion. Leona lays down in the grass. “At least it’s the type of unique magic people aren’t afraid of. This makes an ideal napping spot.”

Peering at him, you notice the way he seems off in thought staring up at the canopy of leaves. “Just because your unique magic might be dangerous, doesn’t mean you are,” you point out.

He snorts. “Most people don’t think that way. They’re all too blinded by their fear.” Closing his eyes, he can hear Cheka chattering to himself while climbing back down.

The young boy comes over and flops down next to Leona. “This is so cool!” He points at a spot on one of the branches. “Look! Even the birds are coming to rest.”

Chuckling, you lay down as well. You're still tired from using your unique magic. “Sometimes it’s nice to just lay in the shade of a tree.”

Leona agrees with a non-committal hum. Cheka worms his way between you two. The three of you rest in the shade of the tree.

Suddenly Cheka asks, “Do you have someone back home (Y/N)?”

“Um, no. Why do you ask?” You’re a bit afraid to hear his answer.

Cheka sits up as he looks at you then Leona. “Then you can marry unca Leona! That way, you can stay here forever, and unca Leona won’t be so grumpy!”

“Hey, brat, sometimes it’s better to keep ya mouth shut!” Leona snaps, sitting up as well. His teeth are clenched and he refuses to look in your direction.

The boy doesn’t seem too bothered by his uncle’s words. “But papa said if people like each other, they should get married. You like (Y/N), don’t you?”

“That’s…that’s none of your business!” he growls. Scowling fiercely, he lays back down and turns on his side away from Cheka. “Don’t bother me,” he grunts.

“Did I say something wrong?” Cheka asks in a loud whisper.

Biting your lip, you try not to laugh. “Just let him rest.”

Flopping back down, Cheka sighs, “I still think you and unca Leona should get married,” he says honestly.

You remain silent as you mull over his words.

---

A week before Cheka’s birthday, the palace is abuzz. Many people run around with decorations throughout the week. Farena is busy organizing the party and has invitations sent out to just about everyone. You received a handmade invitation from Cheka to attend his party during one of your lessons.

As his birthday draws closer, the young boy can’t seem to sit still for his lessons. You decide to switch tactics. Instead of lessons in the library, the two of you spend time around the palace gardens. Practical magic application requires more open space, and it gives you an excuse to let Cheka run around a bit.

“Did you see that?!” Cheka jumps around wildly as his attempt to move some pebbles with wind magic finally succeeds. They only roll a bit but it’s enough to excite him.

You clap enthusiastically. “Wonderful job, Cheka!” He tilts his head closer so you can pat him. He smiles triumphantly as you ruffle his hair. “I can tell you’ve been practicing your concentration. You’re progressing nicely,” you praise.

Picking up the pebbles, you place them back in a pouch. You gesture to Cheka to sit down on a nearby bench. Rummaging through the bag you always carry, you pull out a wrapped box. Handing it to him, you watch as his eyes light up.

“Is this my birthday gift?!” He’s ready to tear into it.

Nodding, you chuckle at his barely restrained excitement. “Yes. I thought you could open my gift early.” In reality, you don’t want Cheka to make a big fuss over your gift at his party. He most likely would receive far better gifts from the many guests.

He eagerly rips the wrapping paper away. Pulling off the box top, he pulls out a small snow globe. Rather than depicting snow, it’s filled with grass and miniature flowers. There’s even a miniature tree like the one that grew when you used your unique magic. The flowers and tree grow before disappearing in a puff of green sparkle and then regrow again.

“Woah!” He holds it close to his face.

“I infused a bit of my unique magic in some runes. I thought a small plant world would make a fun snow globe,” you explain. It took you many trials and long nights to complete the gift. Infusing runes with your magic took precise control and a lot of patience. It sounded easy in theory, but you had learned how difficult it actually was.

“This is so cool!” He carefully set the globe back in the box before wrapping his short arms around you. “Thank you!”

Squeezing him tight, you smile brightly. Pulling away, you pat his head. “Alright, lessons are over for today. I’ll let you enjoy some time off before your birthday.”

Jumping up, he holds the box with your gift closer to his chest. “I wanna show papa my gift!” He’s off like a bolt of light.

Shaking your head, you pick up the rest of your things before heading to the guest house. You hadn’t planned to give Cheka something, but you also couldn’t resist the urge to make him smile. His joy is infectious. As much as you promised not to get too personal with Cheka, he had wormed his way into your heart.

---

You try your best to avoid bumping into people as you weave your way through the party. There are so many guests, and they’re all in merry moods. Cheka’s birthday celebration is nothing like you’ve ever been to. There’s so much food and drink, it seems to overflow. Music and dancers entertain the guests. 

Beatmen, fae, humans and other magical creatures mingle and laugh. It was fun at first, but now you’re feeling tired. The excitement has become a bit too much for you. Sneaking out of the party, you manage to wander into the garden. The music and cheering is muffled, and the air feels nice on your heated skin.

Sitting down on one of the benches, you let out a relieved breath. “Too much excitement for ya, herbivore?”

Leona’s voice makes you jump up. You spy a set of bright emerald eyes staring at you. Sprawled out on the grass and mostly hidden by the bushes, he’s very hard to spot. Your heart still beats rapidly as you sink back down.

“Don’t do that…” You sigh. “I just needed a break from all that. It’s a lot to take in. Are parties usually this extravagant?”

He tilts his head before slinking over to you. “Usually. Farena likes to go all out when it comes to birthday parties.” He pushes you to the edge of the bench, so he can sit down. “It’s annoying but harmless.”

“So, what did you get Cheka?” you ask, curious since you didn’t see him give a gift during the present opening.

“A mechanical meerkat,” he answers. He shrugs when you give him a confused look. “Some toy inventor was trying to sell it a few weeks ago. No one was buyin’ it, but I thought the brat would like it. According to the inventor, it can lead you home if you tell it to.”

Peering at him, he doesn’t meet your probing gaze. “That actually sounds useful. You’re a good uncle, Leona.”

He grumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear. However, the way his ears twitch, you wonder if he’s just a little happy at the compliment. “Stop lookin’ so smug, herbivore,” he growls.

Grinning, you stand up. “Despite all your complaining, you care about him.” He scoffs but doesn’t deny your claim. “Come on, we should head back.” Offering him your hand, you meet his intense gaze with a fond look of your own.

Leona takes your hand, and you lead him out of the garden. Down the darkened halls of the castle, you two slowly walk back to the party while talking in low voices. You’re not in any hurry to return to the celebration.

---

There’s a night bazaar happening and Cheka is determined to go. You can only stand in Farena’s office and watch as the young boy begs his father to take him. Your paperwork was forgotten the moment Cheka had run into the office during your meeting.

“Please, papa! I really wanna go tonight! You promised last year that you’d take me!” he begs, his eyes wide and filled with pleading. The mechanical meerkat that Leona had gifted him skitters from the boy’s pocket to his head.

Farena sighs, shoulders slumping forward. “I’m sorry, Cheka. I really can’t. Papa has some very important meetings he needs to attend. I can’t push them off.” The unspoken ‘again’ hangs in the air.

Cheka’s large golden eyes fill with tears. “Bu-but…” His lower lip wobbles dangerously.

With a panicked look in his eyes, Farena meets your gaze. He stares at you for a moment longer before a smile stretches across his face. “I’m sure (Y/N) can take you though!”

“W-what?” Baffled, you can only open and close your mouth.

Cheka sniffles as he wipes his face before looking at you with hopeful eyes. “Really?”

You resist the urge to say what you’re really feeling by biting the inside of your cheek. “Of course! You’re not busy, are you?” Farena asks, his eyes pleading much like how his son was just moments before.

“I-I mean I had plans…” In reality, you were just going to finish grading Cheka’s last test and finish reviewing your future lessons. Very exciting things!

Having the king of all people look at you with what can only be called puppy eyes is a very startling turn of events. “Leona can go with you too,” he adds with a grin

“Unca Leona!” Cheka cheers, all sadness gone without a trace.

Farena gives Cheka a big squeeze before letting the boy rush off to find his uncle. “I’ll see you at the front door!” he calls before the door closes with a click. 

You meet his gaze, his eyes the same warm golden shade as his son’s. “I take it I don’t have much choice on this matter?”

The man shakes his head. “Of course you have a choice. I can’t force you to go.” He drums his fingers on his desk as he regards you with sharp eyes. “But Cheka’s so fond of you, I thought some more time together would be nice. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. Cheka’s a big boy, he’ll understand.”

Eyes narrowing, the easy smile on his face doesn’t seem so friendly. “As you wish, your highness.” You give a stiff bow before leaving his office.

You can hear Cheka’s voice drifting through the halls as you walk away. Shaking your head at your encounter with the king, you meet him at the front. Cheka is bouncing around excitedly while Leona scowls, his dark hair a mess. The meerkat hangs on his shoulders; it’s become his constant companion.

“I need to drop some things off at the guest house,” you tell them. Leona’s scowl seems to soften a bit when you come closer.

“Okay! Then the bazaar!” The boy grabs your hand. You can only give Leona a helpless smile as you're dragged along.

After putting away your things and grabbing some money, the three of you walk to the bazaar. It’s filled with people wandering about as they enjoy the food, entertainment, and festive atmosphere. Cheka tugs you to each and every stall.

He chatters non stop at everything he sees, pointing with wide eyes at the decorations. You listen to his enthusiastic ramblings while Leona follows a few paces behind. Eventually you stop at a stall to buy a few treats. Cheka is chowing down on a chocolate pastry from the same seller as last time.

“So, it looked like Cheka had just woken you up from a nap,” you comment.

Leona rubs his eyes. “The brat seems to have a knack for finding me regardless of how well I hide.” He shakes his head as Cheka starts eating another sweet. “How’d my brother rope you into this?”

Looking around, you notice a puppet show being set up. A group of children are already gathered in front of the makeshift stage. “Let’s just say your brother is very…persuasive when he wants to be.”

Snorting, you glance at Leona, who rolls his eyes dramatically. “He knows how to get his way.”

Nudging his arm with your elbow, you give him a teasing grin. “I’d say the same for you. The two of you go about it in different ways, but the end result is the same.”

There’s a sharpness to his smile. “I can show how persuasive I can be, herbivore. And I promise I’m better than my brother.” His emerald greens seem to darken as he holds your gaze.

Feeling heat prickle up your neck, you turn away. “Cheka! Do you want to watch the puppet show?” As you usher the young boy over to the show, you can hear Leona’s low chuckle, sending shivers down your back.

The puppet show starts after a few minutes. The story is rather morbid for a children’s play. The story revolves around a young man and his uncle turned stepfather, who may have poisoned his brother to become king. You become so engrossed in the play that you don’t notice Cheka slipping away.

There’s a particular moment in the play that causes you to turn to Cheka. “Did you see tha-” Your eyes land on an empty seat before frantically scanning around. Standing up, you urgently run over to Leona, who had opted to rest a bit away on a bench.

“Did you see Cheka?!” The fear in your voice is palpable.

He quickly sits up, eyes focused. “No. He couldn’t have gotten far.” Taking your hand, the two of you rush through the bazaar calling his name.

“Cheka? Cheka?! Cheka!” You split off from Leona hoping to cover more ground. As you rush by stalls and the throngs of people, you can only think of finding him.

Something shiny catches your eye near the edge of the bazaar. Rushing over, you realize it’s the mechanical meerkat that Cheka always carries. Though a bit dusty, the toy is perfectly fine. It immediately curls up in your hand as you pocket the toy. Moving away from the bright lights of the festival, you make your way through the dim streets and alleys in the general direction of where you found the meerkat.

You hear a loud sound coming from one of the alleys and carefully make your way over. Peering into the narrow passage, you can make out two figures struggling with a small figure. As the clouds suddenly part and moonlight fills the dark alley, your eyes widen. The two figures are struggling with a terrified Cheka.

“Let him go!” You rush at them as magic builds at your fingertips. However, Cheka cries out as a sharp pain radiates from the back of your head. Your vision blurs as you feel your body pitch forward. Everything goes black.

---

Waking up with a throbbing headache, you find yourself laying on your side. The grimy, cold floor rubs against your cheek as you struggle to sit up. Your hands are bound behind your back with rope as well as your legs. The world spins as you manage to sit up and take in your surroundings.

There’s not much except some planks of wood leaning against a wall, empty buckets stacked in a corner and a boarded up window. The air is stale and the only light comes from a door slightly ajar. You can hear muffled voices arguing.

“(Y/N)?” a tiny voice calls to you. Blinking as your eyes adjust, you realize Cheka is tied up as well. He sits with his back against a wall. His shirt hangs limply off of him and his face is smudged with dirt. 

“Cheka, are you okay?” you ask in a low voice.

He nods, tears threaten to spill. “When those men hit you, I thought…I thought you wer-” his voice breaks into a muffled sob.

“It’s okay, Cheka. Shhh, shhh.” You keep your voice down as you try to sooth him. “I’m okay. You’re okay. And we’re getting out of here.”

Sniffling, he tries his best to calm down. “H-how?”

“Give me a second to think.” There’s not much you can use in the room. If you try breaking down the boards on the window, it might draw too much attention. The only other way out is straight through where the voices are coming from.

Testing the bindings on your wrist, they don’t budge. Drawing on your magic, you summon a small fire. As they burn through the rope, you try your best to ignore the pain as the flame licks your skin. Once the rope is burned enough for you to easily break them, you do the same for the binds on your legs.

“Cheka, how many men are there?” you ask, tossing aside the burnt rope.

“Th-three I think. They’ve been fighting for a while. I-I think I’ve seen one of them before.” Once free to move, you crawl over to Cheka and start working on his ropes.

“This will hurt, but you can’t make a sound. Okay?” Peering at his tired eyes, he nods slowly. You try your best to burn the rope without hurting him, but you notice the way he slightly jerks away before biting down on his lip.

“Almost there. You’re doing an amazing job,” you praise. Tears fall, but he remains quiet. You tug at the ropes and they easily break. Making quick work of the rest of the bindings, you sit on your haunches. 

Contemplating your next move, you decide to get going. There isn’t much you can do, but you need to get out. Meeting Cheka’s gaze, you tell him, “I’m going to carry you. Hold as tight as you can and don’t let go. Whatever happens, don’t look. Okay?”

“Okay.” He scrambles to your side and loops his arms around your neck. Standing up, you nearly fall back down as the world spins and your head pounds. Using the wall to right yourself, you push through the bout of dizziness. You heft him up on your good side while leaving one hand free to cast magic.

“There’s going to be a lot of noise, but I want you to ignore it.” He answers by burying his face in your shoulder. Tightening your hold, you inhale sharply. Gathering your magic, you rush out the slightly ajar door.

It bangs open loudly, startling the three men. You recognize one as the stall seller from earlier. Before they can react, you quickly throw fireballs at their feet. You call upon the wind to whip  through the small area. It stirs the dust on the ground and sends smaller objects flying.

“What the hell?!”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you make a dash for the exit. Rushing outside, you stumble a bit before breaking out in a mad dash. It’s still dark out, but the moonlight makes it easier to navigate.

They have two horses tied up nearby. Honing wind magic with sharp focus, you direct  it to cut through the rope. The horses rear in fright and immediately run off. At least the kidnappers won’t be able to use them.

“Shit! Get them! Bring the brat back alive!”

You hold Cheka tightly against you as you pump your legs. Nothing else matters except getting to somewhere safe. At the outskirts of town, you can make the faint glimmer of lights in some of the houses. Urging your magic once more, a wind pushes against your back, allowing you to run just a little faster. You can hear the kidnappers shouting but don’t look back.

Cheka keeps his eyes squeezed tight like you told him, but his whole body shakes. You continue to mutter reassurances to him, though at this point you’re trying to reassure yourself too. Feeling the fatigue of using magic so much, you let the wind die down. You can only do a little more magic before it becomes an issue.

Passing by a few homes, you call out, “Please, someone help us!”

No one answers. You see houses that were once lit suddenly turn dark. Gritting your teeth, you adjust your hold on Cheka. You can hear the kidnappers getting closer. Rushing down side streets, you zigzag through the town. You knock over trash cans in different directions before bolting down a different alley.

There’s a brief respite from all the running once you can no longer hear the kidnappers. You set Cheka down to catch your own breath. Your chest burns from the exertion. The throbbing in the back of your head has gotten worse. Cheka stares up at you with worried eyes. He gnaws on his lower lip.

Glancing around, you spy a large, water drum near the door of a house. Usually used to store rain water, you notice the crack in the side of the drum. The house itself is dark and looks to be empty. There’s also a clothing line with dry clothes and a blanket hanging. There’s a sack leaning against the drum, and you can see a shirt sleeve sticking out of it.

An idea starts to form. “Cheka, I need you to be very brave right now. I know this situation is very scary, but I promise that you’ll be safe. Do you trust me?” You kneel so your eye level with him.

He nods solemnly. Any of that usual joy is gone, and it breaks your heart. “I trust you.”

“I need you to hide in that water drum. Hide in there and count slowly to one hundred.” You pull out the mechanical meerkat you had picked up. Thankfully it still works as it jumps out of your hand and climbs up Cheka to settle on his shoulder.

There’s a small smile on his face for a moment. “Then,” you continue, “once you finish counting and you don’t hear anyone around, I want you to use the meerkat to lead you home. You remember what Leona told you, right?”

“Yes… He said I just have to ask it to take me home, and it’ll lead me back to the palace.” 

Nodding, you ruffle his hair. “Good. Now get in the drum and don’t come out until you’re done counting.” You pop off the lid.

Cheka climbs into the drum. He peers up at you. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. We’ll meet back at the palace, I promise.” Giving him what you hope is a reassuring smile, you place the lid on the drum. 

Grabbing the sack of clothes and the blanket, you dawn a large jacket and pull the hood up. You mentally apologize to whoever you’re stealing from and promise you’ll return everything. Covering the sack with the blanket, you hold it as if it were Cheka.

Breathing deeply, you give one last glance at the drum before running off. You can hear the kidnappers nearby and purposefully run by them.

“There! Get them!”

Running down streets and turning corners, you can hear them gaining. Just as you turn another corner, you come to a fence. There’s a stack of crates that you climb on to jump over the fence. However, the landing isn’t perfect as your foot lands the wrong way. You tumble forwards into the ground. Tucking the sack under your body, you come to a rolling stop. Getting back up, you wince as pain shoots up your leg.

One of the kidnappers, the stall owner, is rushing at you. As you attempt to flee, he manages to snag the back of the hood. You find yourself being dragged back. Then a clawed hand roughly grabs the back of your head causing the pain from before to intensify. Your eyes widen as you face rapidly meet the ground before you squeeze them shut. 

The burst of pain as your forehead cracks against the cold ground has you seeing stars. You cry out, but the assailant doesn’t stop. Something cracks loudly. An animalistic howl rips from your throat. You swear your face is on fire.

“Hey, man, stop!” There’s some struggle before the clawed hand disappears. You feel the cold ground pressing against your cheek but can’t see anything beyond the tears.

Someone rolls you over and the blanket is torn away. “Fuck! Where’s the brat?!”

Three shadows hover over you in the morning light. You feel a foot nudge your side. “Where’s the kid!?”

Through the pain, you find yourself smiling despite your face protesting against the gesture. You hand twitches and shakes as you try to raise it. However, a heavy pressure immediately stomps on your hand causing another scream to be ripped from your throat. You can feel the bones being ground down by the heel of someone’s foot.

“Not this time fucking mage!” growls one of them

“We’re gonna ask one last time. Where’s the boy?”

Through blurry vision, you can see their faces. Your heartbeat thumps in your ears as you see a glint of a knife in one of their hands. You were supposed to be a tutor, that’s it. Yet, you somehow find yourself bloody, bruised and beaten. There’s nothing you can do.

Whatever adrenaline that was rushing through you before, dies down. Your body sags as all the fight leaves you. Closing your eyes, you wait.

“Not gonna talk…” The foot on your hand moves away.

“Just kill them! We need to get outta here before the guards are called.”

You wonder if Cheka made it back safe.

“Let’s get this ove-arhhhhgghhh!”

Terrified screams fill the air. You can feel the crackle of magic on your skin. Gentle hands gingerly lift you up. The warmth of another body feels like a relief from the cold ground. Something tickles your face.

“You’re all a bunch of idiots. Hurting someone from the royal family is a crime punishable by death!” Leona growls. There’s a sense of relief that floods your body. You're safe.

“Take (Y/N) back to the palace and have the royal doctor take care of the injuries,” he orders. You’re passed off to someone else.

“I am the one who hungers. I am the one who thirsts.” Distinctly you can hear the kidnappers shouting and feel the ground shake. 

But soon you can’t hear anything. It doesn’t matter though as you allow yourself to slip away.

---

When you wake once more, you’re not in a grungy basement. You recognize your room at the guest house. Whatever aches and pains you had before aren’t as pronounced. Sitting up, you inspect your arms and notice your hand is bandaged up. You touch your face with your good hand and wince. There’s a dull throbbing all throughout your face.

“You’re awake.” The doctor, a cat beastman, enters. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore but fine.” You lean back against the propped up pillows. “Is Cheka okay?”

She checks your pulse. “The young prince is fine. Tired and scared, but he wasn’t hurt. You on the other hand needed a lot of fixing.” She clicks her tongue. “Your nose was broken and the area around it was extensively bruised. Your hand will need time to heal naturally, though I did reset it with magic. Your head should be fine after a few days, but you will feel some pain. Take one pill in the morning and one before bed. Drink plenty of water and get rest.”

Frowning, you set the bottle of pills down on the side table. “I’m Cheka’s tutor, I need to work.”

“You will do no such thing for at least a week,” she snaps. Her mismatched eyes glare at you as she shakes her head. “I will tell the king that you need rest or else.”

Shrinking under her gaze, you nod. “...fine.”

“Good. There’s some people here to see you.” Gesturing to the door, you finally notice Cheka peeking in.

He rushes to your side, but stops himself as he takes in the sight of you. “I’m sorry!” he suddenly cries out.

You panic as tears fall down his face. “C-Cheka? It’s okay! I’m fine!” You stroke his head with your good hand. “Everything turned out alright in the end.”

“B-but you got hurt because of me!”

Shaking your head vehemently, you give him a firm look. “You didn’t hurt me, Cheka. Those kidnappers did. Don’t ever think it’s your fault. Okay?”

Sniffling, he nods. “O-okay.”

Sighing, you give him a few more pats. “I won’t be able to do lessons for a week, but I’d like it if we could still hang out.”

Golden eyes brightening, he jumps up. “I’ll visit you everyday! We can read and play games together!”

“That sounds like a plan!” Giving him a big grin despite the throbbing pain, your heart feels lighter seeing him shine again.

He gingerly wraps his arms around you in a warm hug. There’s a cough that breaks up the hug. Leona casually leans against the door frame. “Come on, brat. Time to give (Y/N) some space.”

“Okay! I’ll be back soon. I promise!” He scampers off.

Leona saunters in and takes a seat at your bedside. “You look like shit, herbivore.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious.” The glare you throw him has no heat and a smile forms on your face.

He eyes you for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re a lot of trouble, ya know that?” There’s fondness despite the scowl.

“Thank you for saving me.” Your gaze softens. “I really thought I was done. I can’t tell you how relieved I felt hearing your voice.”

Leaning back in the chair, he smirks. “Ya owe me one.”

Eyebrows flying up, you warily ask, “What do you want?”

“Well,” he holds up three fingers, “you have to be my napping pillow whenever I ask. Play chess with me. And you can’t leave.”

Brows coming together, you frown. “I can do one and two, but three isn’t possible. You do realize I’m hired by your brother to be Cheka’s tutor? Once I’m no longer needed, I have to find a new job.”

Scoffing, Leona leaves the chair to hover over you. He’s dangerously close and you can hear your heart thumping in your ears. “I’ll just hire you as my tutor when the time comes.”

“You?” Despite his closeness, you still find the ability to laugh.

“Mhm. I believe there are some things that only you can teach me.” His eyes gleam brightly as he inches ever closer to your face.

You can feel his lips brush against your own. Squeezing your eyes shut, you wait. Even though your face hurts, you decide you don’t mind if he kisses you. Instead, you feel his lips brush against your forehead. Cracking your eyes open, your puzzled look makes him chuckle. 

His eyes are darker than before. “The doc says you can’t do anything strenuous. She’d have my head if I tried anything right now. But once you're healed, everything is fair game.” 

You feel very warm under his gaze. However, you’re also itching to heal as quickly as possible. You suddenly recall Cheka’s very innocent question about marrying Leona. Looking away from him, you wonder.

“Whacha thinkin’ so hard about?” he asks, noticing the way you can’t meet his gaze.

Shaking your head, you scoot over in bed. “Nothing. Since I’m on bed rest, you can comfort me.”

A single eyebrow goes up. “Gettin’ bold.” However, he crawls under the covers before hauling you closer to him. 

Resting your head against his chest, you relax. “So, are we…?” You trail off, not sure how to ask.

He snorts. “Of course we are. Keep up, herbivore.” Leona holds you gently, being sure not to touch any of your injuries. “Just rest,” he orders.

Closing your eyes, you decide not to worry about the logistics. Right now, you’re not Cheka’s tutor and Leona isn’t a prince. You’re just two people. And it’s perfect.

[ariaste]

hheeyy I am probably gonna buy your pirate book regardless, because it does sound wonderful, but just so I know what I'm getting my little ace brain into: the gizmodo article you linked described Brother Julian as having "a frankly inconvenient vow of celibacy" and i had terrible flashbacks of the way the dragon age 2 fandom talked about Sebastian so like. Does Julian *also* think his vow is inconvenient, or am I going to have to go in accepting that funny queer pirates who resolve things with polyamory is worth wincing through a few conversations where his suitors just Cannot Believe someone so hot doesn't want to fuck oh my we must save him from himself or. whatever the fuck. Again, i loved A Touch Of Gold And Iron so I do trust you, but I've had authors i trust suddenly and unthinkingly have their characters spout aphobic talking points before, so i just want a warning, i guess. Thank you and I promise this isn't intended as a judgement of any kind, just me making sure I'm taking care of myself

No worries! I have not seen any of the Dragon Age 2 discourse and I don't know who Sebastian is, but I think I can sort of glean from context what you mean.

The answer about Julian is a little spoilery for mostly worldbuilding and a bit of his character arc, but not plot. I'm gonna try to put it under a cut, but tumblr is broken sometimes, so if the cut does not work, I apologize to the general public.

Julian is a monk of the Vintish church, which is sort of "what if the Catholic church but make it The Enlightenment" -- their religion teaches that the pursuit of knowledge and Understanding is deeply holy and that the Emperor of Heaven filled the world with mysteries specifically because he wanted humanity to figure out his little puzzles. Monks of this church take vows not to give up all "sinful" things, but to give up the one thing that occupies their mind above all else and causes them to be distracted from the pursuit of knowledge. For some people that might be alcohol, or gambling, or an addiction, or wearing pretty clothes, or anger/resentment, or whatever. For Julian, that thing was sex. He is the most allosexual man who has ever lived. He LOVED sex. It was a source of pure joy and delight and fulfillment for him -- he's one of those people who can find something wonderful and attractive in pretty much everyone he meets.

There were some Urgent Circumstances fifteen years ago in his past where taking that vow was preferable to the alternative that would have happened if he hadn't taken it, so in that sense it was a tool that served a purpose -- it was at one point a deeply convenient way of saving his own ass. I also think it was an important lesson for Young Julian to realize that sometimes you have to make sacrifices and that sacrifices HURT.

However, whether he would say in hindsight now that it was inconvenient... I think he has mixed feelings. He's very good at nuance, Julian is, and so he recognizes that all his experiences have made him into the person who he is and that he has Learned and Grown and Gained Knowledge Of Himself, which he does sincerely believe is a holy and righteous thing -- he deeply values the journey that he has been on. But at the same time.... at his heart he's just a fun guy and secretly an absolute gremlin in his own ways, you know? And tools that were once useful and relevant do not always remain so. Hope that helps!! I am on the ace/demi spectrum myself, so I've got some irritating experiences of the ways that people write about ace characters and try to "fix" them -- this is definitely not that situation.

Also, just cause you mentioned you're ace -- FYI there isn't any on-page sex in the book, just lots of dumb sex jokes and flirting. :)

[kittenfangirl20]

Alternative Snow White Au

This takes place after Adam fell to Hell and him and Lucifer have patched things up a bit and are dancing around their feelings for each other.

Sera learns that up in heaven that Adam is alive. But that is a bad thing because he knows the secrets of the inner workings of heaven and extermination and what happens to disobedient angels.

-

Sera: You’re sure that he is alive?

Jay: I saw him for myself Sera. Adam is alive in Hell with the King at his daughters hotel.

That would not end well. She needed to find a way to fix this.

Sera: Thank you. I will take care of this.

Jay left and Sera went to the secret room in her office. As she walked into the room she passed rows of wings and halos on the wall. At the very end was a halo with no wings.

The plaque read: Adam.

-

Down in Hell Adam was attending one of Charlie’s lessons. Lucifer was sitting on the other end of the couch stealing glances at the fallen angel.

He had just earned Adams trust back and he didn’t want to mess it up again. He loved him but was worried that his feelings were not returned.

Little did he know Adam felt the same.

*Adam watched Lucifer from the edges of his sight, one of the few things he liked about being in Hell was being so close to Lucifer, his Luci, they were basically back to how they were in Eden, very close friends, but Adam wanted more, he wanted love that people wrote songs about, but he had to take what he could get*

Charlie: Also we have a little party to celebrate Adam doing so well for his first month here.

*Adam blushed a little, he didn’t think he would get along with the Princess of Hell so well after they butted heads so much the last half year*

Charlie: We made Adam’s favorite dishes of ribs, baked potatoes which you can fix however you want to, red velvet cake, and dad even made pancakes.

*the group set everything up and were allowed to serve themselves, when Adam was reaching towards a plate his hand and Lucifer’s hand met which caused both men to blush*

Lucifer: So for your month anniversary I would like to take you to Lu Lu World where you can do whatever you want to.

Adam: That sounds fucking awesome.

*after the party which went pretty late into the night, Adam started to go up to his room and he noticed Angel Dust following, Adam grew to really like the spider Sinner and saw him as a friend, but he wondered what Angel Dust wanted*

Angel Dust: So what are you going to wear on your date?

Adam: I don’t think that Luci sees what we are tomorrow as a date. But I guess I am going to wear something like this.

*Adam had on a shirt of a metal band he liked and some jeans with holes in the knees*

Angel Dust: I am not going to let one of my best friends go on a date looking like that, when you get married to Hell’s favorite short king and are pregnant with his babies, you will thank you.

Adam: I really regret telling you that I became intersex when I fell and just recently got over my first period.

Angel Dust: Wait right here and we can try out some outfits that will make you sexy in your room, it could be like a slumber party.

*Angel Dust ran off to get some clothes and makeup for Adam to try*

Adam internally: I guess there is no harm in trying this out and seeing what Luci thinks.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

[eydi-andrius]

Fool Entire IV

warnings: verbal abuse, implied attempted r*pe, abuse of power, physical violence

Synopsis

If someone asked you who Prince Aemond was in your life, you probably would have said the love of your life.

Years have passed but still your heart yearns for him.

But you were no fool.

It was a lesson learned for you not to give your heart to a man who knows nothing but duty.

a/n: it's been a while huh? well it turns out i've already written chapters for this story and completely forgot about them. And yes, it was him with his slutty walk that made me check my WIPs for Aemond. 😂 Anyway! ENJOY! or I guess??? 🤺 It's also 3AM and I can't sleep. Augh!

Part III here.

🌿🌿🌿

"Then go." Simon replied nonchalantly.

"Did you even hear what I said?" You grimaced when he did not think twice giving you an answer to the questions you have been beating yourself to answer and choose from.

"I did." He said looking around.

"Then why did you recommend that I go back to court? You know how much I suffered." With a huff, you crossed your arms and glared at him.

"Little lady…. It is because, without a doubt, that you were born to be a noble lady. Tell me…how many times has someone been banished to a life full of riches for them to have an opportunity to go back without marrying? None." He also crossed his arms and glared back at you as he explained how his answer was the best one. He looks absolutely sure. And here you thought he would be the one to tell you not to.

"And based on your story, you were not going back as someone's fiance. I believe it is a win." He continued.

"How about my business then-"

"Nah uh. Once you become a noble lady again, you'll have more resources to use for it to grow. Think about it. Create your own wealth so if something happens and you were banished again, you'll have your own power. You will not go back to this slum. And your sister will be away from danger. Once an opportunity arises, you must seize it. Not everyone can get a second chance. Hear thy advice from a former mercenary. Seize it!" He squeezed his palm into fist and raised it in the air.

You can't help but chuckle on his antics and he bowed in front of you like an actor ending a play. Sometimes you cannot understand how he can act this way in a serious conversation.

"But I am serious, I won't be able to protect you always, especially now that I am having a child. I know how hard you thrive on your own and how much you have worked for you and your sister's life. However, we must know when to take chances when they show themselves. I admit that I worry about you. You are like a little sister of mine and I am saying this for your safety. Think about it." He gave a soft smile and tapped your nose.

In annoyance, you huffed and scrunched your face in disgust. How can an old man try to act adorable. He always does this when you look too serious and he usually follows the gesture with a…

"Alas! You're too young to worry too much about those things every time, so how about we move forward?" You can't help but roll your eyes. Simon will always be Simon. He is so predictable but you can always rely on his strength.

"Sister!" Your head snapped at the voice who called you and your eyes softened when you could see your sister sparkling with excitement at a fabric stall. The place looks dark for an afternoon. As if it was intentionally dimmed.

You smiled and went to her direction, followed closely by Simon.

"Look at it! The blue fabric glows in the dark!" She chirped and immediately showed you how beautifully the blue hue of the fabric looks, like the stars in the night. Glowing majestically from a gloomy night. It was gorgeous and you can't help but touch it. The fabric was soft, just like how you imagine clouds would feel, if you touch them. It is one of a kind and you can't help but be awed at how this cloth existed.

"Beautiful isn't it? The dye came from the ocean, while the fabric was loomed in a very certain way, making it so soft to the touch. You can only find that fabric available in our shop." The owner looks smug as he explains how they have gathered the needed materials for the said fabric. On how they made the cloth be so soft and how the dye looks so much alive, rather than just a glowing color at night.

"How much is it?" You asked, gulping nervously. Most of the time when owners introduce something this detailed the price will probably be something you can't afford.

You winced when he told you how much it was. The owner's face soured and shouted your party away as he saw how your face changed. He probably thought you and your sister were rich for having Simon around and also for having better clothing than the others in here. Of course, Simon did not back down without shouting his curses as well and calling the owner a bald bastard. You did your best to apologize but his mocking became too much and it was Simon who dragged you two away from the snobbish business man.

"Hah! That fabric is probably fake! That bald man really thought he could swindler us." Simon remarked bitterly as he copied how the business man introduced his product to you and your sister.

"Well, the fabric was truly beautiful and he seemed proud of it. It was our fault for not asking how much first. We wasted his time." You convinced him, but your tone still hurt by what happened.

"Oh don't start with that! That's the reason why you shouldn't be here at all. You become street smart, yes. But you still can't help putting logic on other people's bad behavior. If you know you're putting a new item for sale, you shouldn't treat your customers awfully for not being able to afford it. That was probably fake. Remember that." He rolled his eyes and walked in front of you and your sister with a frown. Your sister just giggled at you and you gave her a smile.

"I guess, we should continue and focus on our task at hand." With a deep breath, you opened the list of what you needed to buy and directed your company on what to do for today's leg work.

The afternoon sun was harsh as it beats you strolling around the market. Sweats build on your forehead and you can't help the amount of times you need to ask Simon for a break. You haggled, checked for new suppliers and searched the market for potential competitors like you always do to make sure you're top notch and following the trend. It helps a lot looking for new customers.

Once the shopping was done, you three decided to visit the brothel for refreshments. You'll just pay the girls there rather than here at the market.

However, there seems to be some sort of commotion. There were tons of people outside and you excused your way to see what was going on. You let out a horrified gasp when you saw bits of wood from broken tables and chairs. It was scattered everywhere. Looking around you saw the mistress, sitting in front of the door, dirtied and bruised. You ran towards the mistress and kneeled in front of her, asking her what happened. You helped to sit her on a chair that was brought out by one of the girls. She held her head. Her right cheek was swollen, eyes filled with fear. She looks pale too.

"Who did all of this!?" Simon yelled as he checked the damage and went inside the brothel.

Mysaria's business is protected not even by her connections but also by the Rouge Prince, Daemon Targaryen, so who in their right mind would do something so terrible and be bold.

"Are you feeling better?" You immediately handed over the goblet of water your sister brought to give to the mistress. You helped her tip over the cup and you told her to drink slowly. As you look closely, the red was starting to form like someone's hand, indicating that someone must have hurt her.

"You shouldn't be in here." Once she swallowed the water, she looked at you and grabbed your arm. Her eyes wide with worry.

"They're looking for you."

"Who?" Your heart beat faster and you can only think of someone who might be looking for you. His familiar back and silver hair flashes in your memory. Could it be possible that he found your connections with Mysaria already?

"They're back. The nobles who were looking for you to make you their slave." The horror in your face were visible and the fear you first felt about these people being Aemond were replaced with disgust and anger.

"How could they be so bold attacking Mysaria's place just to find a mere vanished lady?" You stood up and yelled. You can hear Simon and the other guards telling the outsiders to leave as they need to clean up the place.

"The Rouge Prince were removed as the head of the Night's Watch. He was banished by the King himself. And now, the position was empty. And those nobles with higher power acts like they own the place.

Is there really a time you could truly find peace?

"Go home. We can handle this. We did not say anything to them. The girls and I like you too much to let them find you. Go!" Before you can protest, one of the girls gives you two cloaks and pushes you away from the brothel. One of them dragged Simon out and she specifically told him to protect you on your way home.

The walk was quiet and tense. You can't help looking around you as you used another route to go home. The only time you stopped panicking was when Simon touched your shoulder and told you to breath. You did not realize you were holding on for a long time now. With worry, your sister called your name, held your hand and squeezed it to reassure you that you two will be safe.

While you do trust their words, it wasn't in your power to stop yourself from the trauma you suffered days after you were banished from the Red Keep.

You can't trust no one. Especially, the night guard's who known you to be Aemond's fiancé. You thought everyone liked you in court, that's why they were nice to you. But you were naive and only realized it a moment too late, when they were chasing you in the forest like a rabbit being hunted by wolves. They teased, cursed and insulted you as they do their best to locate you. They did not mention anything but you know they were planning to do some awful things to you. You were like a precious commodity that suddenly dropped in value and the fascination to have a taste of the person the Prince had, was an exotic opportunity for them.

You remembered the cold, your wet clothes from rain sticking on you like a second skin. Everything hurts and you were in pain but not a single thought about stopping from running crossed your mind. You cannot go home or else they will hurt your sister. So you did your best to get as far from home and lose them. You run before dawn and now you can see the sun peaking slowly above. You look behind you and you are sure you can't hear their voices anymore. You have to look for a way to go home now and get back. They probably got tired or maybe they got lost. But the most important thing was to meet your sister. You stepped towards a branch and the leaves gave way and you fell down towards a cliff. The area you stepped into had no land. It was a facade. Like a trap from nature. You did your best to shield your head from the impact and braced yourself as your body hit a tree. Your right arm was painful and your vision was spotted with black dots. Slowly, you don't know if it was because of the pain, hunger or exhaustion but your body succumbed to sleep but in your head, you forced yourself to stand up.

The moment you woke up, the smell of cooking meat woke you up. The fire crackles as it stirs the juicy part of the boar. It smells heavenly.

"Oh! Thank the Gods, you're awake. I thought my journey will be with me digging a grave for a dead body." The man wearing pleated armor and a sword looked at you, from his place sitting in front of the grilling meat.

You only widened your eyes and choked words as you panicked and did your best to move but failed as your body feels like it came from death.

"Woah! Woah! You don't have to worry. I am a stranger but I do not plan to hurt an injured lady. As you can see on my clothes, I am a mercenary and I'm on my way home to the capital when I saw you, almost dead in here. I gave you some medicine for the pain but it will take a while to work. I also bandaged the places I could. I don't have enough things so it is better for us to go to the capital once you are numb." He explained and as much as you do not trust him, he seems sincere to what he just said.

"Why are you in the middle of the forest, anyway?" He asked, curious and confused. He probably knew by now or at least for you, you think it was impossible for a lady to be alone in the forest but since he already checked your injuries, he knew you fought well.

You tried to swallow but there's no words coming out of your mouth. You looked at his container and he understood what you meant right away. He moved towards you and asked for your permission first before helping you out.

Once he tipped the body of his bottle, crisp water comforted your parched and wounded throat. It was heaven despite coughing a bit from the change of dry throat from cold water.

"Easy easy." He warned and you blinked in acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry. I was being chased by the night guards and ended here." You explained and his chill demeanor turned cold right away.

"Those bastards?" He asked. Voice gritty in anger.

"I can't believe they were trying to chase a girl to rape her. Did they not cut off all the cocks the past moon due to rape? Disgusting cows!" His forehead flexed in annoyance and veins started popping out from it. He looks angry, no, furious, as he yelled and cursed the golden cloaked protectors of the realm.

"Here drink this again. I hope this medicine works fast so we can leave here. I'm scared that those disgusting creatures will look for you again. They surely like being in power and abusing it. My darling almost fell victim of it so I promise that you can trust me." He looks serious and firm so all you did was nod and you did not hesitate to have his help.

You usually do not trust someone this fast anymore but there was something truthful and raw from his story. As if yours, even though a bit different, hit close to his experience.

And days after, you found out his name was Simon and her lover was once being taken advantage of those gold cloaked bastards.

He was seething as he told you what happened and you just stared at him the whole time. Somehow, you were grateful that the first one to help you can be a friend and an ally.

Years pass by and your friendship with Simon and his wife, flourished and you treat them like a family.

"Do not open your doors when you don't hear our secret knock. Also, make sure to make your place look like no one lives here. Stay at the back of the house near the other exit for the meantime and if you can live below for now. We are not sure if we can even trust your neighbors. I'll make sure to send food and the things you need." His grip on his sword tightened and you held his hand to stop him from hurting himself.

"I am grateful to be your friend, Simon. We will listen to you". You smiled unsure but you felt his tightened your hold for comfort and he breathed deeply.

"Be safe. I will make sure that they will not find you and the slums will vomit the likes of them. You are part of us now and we will protect you. "With a nod of understanding, Simon left and you and your sister were left by yourselves.

~~~~~

Simon kept his promise in taking care of the two of you as you laylow. You also got ahold of Mysaria and she told you to listen to Simon as she is too faraway to help. It seems like the blow of the fight between the Prince and the King kept Mysaria's power in question especially since she was asked to runaway with him. All she could do was say yes and do her best to appease the Rouge Prince to not kill and destroy her power that she established by herself.

Your sister did your best to entertain you and not mourn the hindrance that stopped your business. She had told you stories she heard, the things she learned and did her very best to take your mind off the worry. You were happy that she was doing her best and it did take your mind off the worry and you focused on learning more on how you can improve your business in Isolation.

However, it was way too peaceful. Sooner or later, something will go wrong. You just don't know when it will happen. So you pray. You pray to the Mother for protection. Hoping that she won't let her daughters of faith be harmed. Like she always has done for you for the past moons

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEREAD: WAKFU, THE GREAT WAVE [TOME 1, Chapters 4-7]

Always some weird shit happening in this country.

I really wish they didn't make Grougalorasalar so fine because now putting him next to Joris feels like one of those "trying to give my cat body dysmorphia" memes.

EXCEPT JORIS ALMOST DEFINITELY ALREADY HAS THAT 😭

Some thought that it's quite cheap, to resurrect a character this way — however, killing 1k people is already established as a type of resurrection that works, within canon. And there is dramatic irony, considering at the end of the movie she kinda began to understand the error of her ways... It's like the universe is saying lol, no peaceful death for you, keep suffering, y'know? It's compelling.

SHUT THE FUCK UP. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR FEE-FEES. YOU ALWAYS CRY WHILE COMMITTING WARCRIMES. COME UP WITH A NEW GIMMICK!

Like literally — this guy will cry over his dead son, and act scared about being forced to commit more warcrimes w/ Joris in the movie... and then go on to commit more warcrimes for centuries. Is he for real?

I think that, of all the people he could have picked, Julith is the most befitting candidate to try and fight Yugo.

She hated holier-than-thou types. She was aligned with Brakmar. She was willing to commit mass murder and abuse her son to reach her goals. For the right reasons, she will be willing to do more mass murder and son abuse once more. It literally makes so much sense to me.

(ANKAMA PLEASE CHANGE HER MOTIVATION FROM REVOLVING AROUND THE MAN SHE WAS IN LOVE WITH. DO KEEP THE CHILD ABUSE, THO. IF YOU DON'T DO THESE 2 THINGS, THIS MANGA WILL BE UNREADABLE AND UNBEARABLE. THANK YOU.)

Once again, I really appreciate the irony. I hope she feels bad about this — I hope it's clicking for her that this is what she was going to do. (I love torturing characters I love torturing characters I love—-)

I really wish we got some more of a conversation here — like "it's been approximately 600ish years since you died" or "the world almost ended like 4 times since you died, and there was a huge flood and stuff".

I really wish to see the reaction of some random mortal character from Dofus era to all the bullshit that has happened since then.

(God, I hope her first thought after learning how long it has been is, "oh, I guess I won't know what happened to my son. It has been a long time. He died a long time ago, I guess. That's probably a good thing." It would be so funny so so funny sooooo funny to me. hehe)

Due to Atcham being an owner of one of these thins in the past, I sadly have an affinity for them.

(I like to think Atcham wishes he could get another one, but being able to own an animal like this was like, one of the things he had to sacrifice to become a Bontarian.)

Something wrong with her, for real.

Loving their resurrection of Julith not just physically, but in spirit too <3

Welcome back, Irredeemably Evil Female Character Driven To Kill Torture And Abuse Innocents (Including Children) By "My Husband, Who Is The Only Person The Writers Have Me Care About, Died"-Disorder And No Other Character Traits Besides Motherhood/Desire To Be A Mother (Despite Being Abusive To All Children Around Her) Given To Her. You truly are a classic, in Ankama media!

I wonder if Julith is being forced into this, or if the only lesson she got from dying is "Jahash wouldn't have wanted me to kill 1k Bontarians" and she is still as weird and horrible of a person.

I guess it's hard to judge what is happening, without knowing what 'Salar told her.

By the way, if she still has a grudge against Bonta for planning the perfect series of events to kill her and Jahash, it will be so funny. Lady you literally tried to killed a woman's husband <3 you have no moral high ground anymore <3 and she never Had a moral high ground to stand on, but now there's like, hypocrisy to it too, if she uses the "my husband and I were plotted against" card.

[giggles cutely] You see, , this is why I often bring up Joris while analysing child-parent relationships and immortality. Ankama loves reiterating on ideas and concepts.

For example, the most recent motif is poisonings and belladonna, especially when love and royalty is involved...

I know I roasted the hell out of Eliatrope for her bad ruling skills, but I don't think that calling a ruling queen "kiddo" and "the girl" is helpful in this situation.

Then again, Aurora said that her father spent most of his time holled up in a cave, in season 4. Maybe he usually doesn't do politics. Maybe he's more of a military leader, while others do all the work.

...Yeah, I know, I know. Ankama just didn't give a shit and I'm just making stuff up to make it make sense.

[d3athmaskd1v1n3]

Hello, welcome to the Yandere side of fanfic! I have seen your first fanfic, and it is good! Can you write another one with Dr.Crane as a psychology professor who takes an interest in his quiet student and decides to kidnap her one day because he feels he is the only one who truly knows her?

Case studies

Johnathan Crane x Fem!reader

(Squueeeee! My first request! I hope you like it. I took a few creative liberties with it, I hope you don't mind. I got to writing as soon as I got the request.) (TW! Kidnapping and inappropriate student/teacher dynamics)

She was a good student, but she was… spacey. One could call her meek, odd, quiet, like she'd shatter and break at any moment. She had the demeanour of a prey animal.

She would often space out during lectures, lost in her daydreams. Because of this, she often asked her professors to repeat themselves. As you could imagine, plenty of professors found (Y/N) annoying, but Professor Crane was different. He took his status as an educator very seriously, and almost seemed delighted to help (Y/N).

The small chats they had after class, the emails she’d send to him to inform him she was late, the questions she’d ask during lectures, it all painted the image not of a dimwitted girl, but of one who was clearly intelligent yet far too…

Fearful.

It was elementary to deduce that was the source of his obsession. Fear was his domain. It's what his research was built on. To see somebody who's natural state of being seemed to be that of trepidation was like dangling a piece of meat in front of a hungry dog.

“I'm sorry for asking too many questions during class today, sir.” she said one day after an especially lengthy lecture. “I didn't mean to drag it on like that. I know I must have ticked off the other students.”

“It's quite alright, Ms. (L/N). In fact, I was glad to see you speak up more.” he smiles as he reassures her. He isn't the most handsome man, being rather tall, gaunt and gangly, but his words and his smile filled her with a warm, comforting feeling.

“You did?”

“Of course! It makes me happy to see young people who are so eager to learn.” he paused for a moment, the gears in his head turning.

“You know, I find it interesting how quiet you are. You're an intelligent young woman, yet you go about your day constantly worrying about the thoughts and feelings of others. Tell me, Ms. (L/N), why is that?”

That question made (Y/N) falter for a minute. It came out of left field.

“To be honest, I don't know. I’ve always been like this, I guess.” she answered.

“Most people don't know why they do the things they do, or act the way they act. They simply believe it's in their nature. I disagree, however. People tend to learn unconscious lessons in their childhood that carries into how they behave in adulthood.” Crane explains.

“Yes, yes, I know. We’ve covered this in class, remember?”

“Of course I do, Ms. (L/N). I'm merely thinking out loud, you see.”

“You're wondering what happened in my childhood that taught me to be so flighty?” (Y/N) asked. This made Crane let out a soft chuckle.

“Always quick to follow, aren't you? I like that about you.”

“So what is your guess?”

Crane liked how bold she’d become when they spoke one on one. Seeing her come out of her shell made him feel prideful.

“You were bullied and your teachers didn't do anything about it. Because of this, you learned to keep your head down and not to complain when things go badly for you.” Crane replied with confidence. “You learned that other people are out to get you. That anyone can be a potential bully. Those who aren't bullies are enablers, and enablers are always those who have authority, like your teachers.”

“That's pretty specific. Suspiciously specific.”

“Did I get it right?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath before nodding. It was eerie how spot on he was.

“I'm a psychologist. I know how these things work. I also get the feeling you have had your brain picked before. Have you ever gone to see a psychiatrist?”

Again, he’s spot on.

“Yeah… I’ve been to my fair share of psychiatrists.”

“I thought so. You have a unique mind. It's a shame people dismiss you.”

She couldn't lie, hearing him say that makes her feel happy.

With that, she quickly and politely said her goodbyes and left the lecture hall. Crane lingered there for a while, still thinking, analysing and dissecting everything about (Y/N).

As she got off the city bus and made her way home, (Y/N) felt the November chill hit her skin. It was dark out.

Damn these late classes. She thought to herself.

She didn't hear the footsteps behind her.

With one swift motion, her assailant grabbed her, putting a cloth over her mouth and nose.

She thrashed about, trying desperately to shake her attacker off of her.

“Deep breaths, Ms. (L/N), take deep breaths.” a familiar voice rings out in the night. Is that…?

Before she can finish that thought, the world around her fades away.

When she awoke, the first thing she noticed was the smell of food wafting in from another room. Then, she looked around. It appeared like she was in a guest bedroom. The bed was covered with warm quilt blankets, and the room was nicely yet sparsely decorated. It would have been rather cozy if she knew where the hell she was.

The next thing she noticed was the fact her hands were tied. Shit. She can't do much without the use of her hands. She can't even grasp the doorknob.

She felt panic start to set in. Just what the hell is going on?

The door to the small guest room opened, and Jonathan Crane entered with a plate of eggs and bacon.

“I knew you'd be hungry when you woke up. You slept through dinner last night.”

Last night? So it must be the morning, then.

“I can't eat without the use of my hands.” (Y/N) said. Despite the panic she felt, she had to be smart. There's no use in putting up a fuss if it could get her in trouble.

“Right you are. I didn't want you sneaking off while I wasn't in the room to watch you. You sleep very soundly, you know?”

He set the plate on the bedside table, then untied her hands.

“Now, I know you must be very alarmed, but do not fret, my dear. I’m not going to harm you like my other students.”

“Huh?!” she couldn't even hide your shock at what he just said.

“Oh, surely you've noticed a few of your peers missing from class as the semester went on.”

“I-I just assumed they dropped the class.” she stammered a bit.

“No, no… I merely needed some test subjects for my research. I can't study fear without scaring the living hell out of people, now can I?” he let out a laugh like he just told an innocent joke.

“But don't worry, dear (Y/N). I don't see the use in subjecting you to such a thing.” he watched as she picked up the plate of food and slowly begin to eat. She didn't even feel like eating after hearing your professor just admit to torturing people, but she was hungry.

“Do you like it? I hope you enjoy scrambled eggs. If not, I’ll make sure to make them differently next time.”

“Why aren't you going to torture me?” she asked, setting the plate back down on the table.

“Why? I have much more interesting things to learn from you than how you’d respond to fear. After all, you're always such an anxious mess, aren't you, dearest?” he responded with honey in his words, as if he was talking to his beloved and not his student. “No… I want to know about the rest of you. I want to know the sides of you that even you don't know about. The parts of you that are buried beneath that fear.”

He lifted a hand up to her face, cupping it gently. She looked into his eyes. His eyes were full of warmth, but that did nothing to comfort her at all.

“(Y/N), it's alright. I’ll take care of you…

As long as you let me study you.”

[highpriestess13]

November Forecast!

Honestly, I feel very good and optimistic for you guys for the month of November. October probably wasn't the best but I'm also getting the energy of "turn of events". Not sure if this is resonating more with the month of October or November, whichever one I just feel like there's going to many turn of events for you guys, whether it's positive or negative or a little mix of both, I guess it all depends on how you at it... it's all about perspective. For instance, a negative situation being the catalyst of some type of turn of event for the better.

I'm going to reiterate staying focus on your goals and plans at this time and not getting easily involved or swayed by distractions. Church bells are definitely significant. The song "Beautiful People" by Chris Brown is significant. Again, distractions... take your time with things especially with yourself and innerstand that only YOU innerstand what's going on and happening for YOU. Yes, you will have naysayers or people that just want to add their little 2 cents into shit... pay them no attention, keep doing what you're doing! "You're doing fine!" someone needed to hear that!

At the end of everything, you'll be very satisfied with the decisions you've made or had to make but remember it was to better you in the long term. I see most of you reaching your goals, others of you however are needing to get out of the swamp... not sure what that means but swamp was what spirit used lol. But it is kind of giving me dirty, mucky water type of vibes... it's kind of creepy looking honestly lmao. Many of you will have your moments where you'll feel betrayed or like you had to betray others in some way in order for you to have this come up and glow up but honestly it is what it is. 555 is significant and I feel this goes back to what I mentioned before how certain turn events will happen but it could be either for the negative or positive. Some of you had to "abandon ship" in order to move forward in your own personal life and honestly that's fine, I also want to add that mistakes will happen and are bound to happen but be graceful and patient with yourself. Yes, you may have had potentials in your life, whether they were friends, romantic partners, jobs, etc. but things had to go the way they did in order for you to grow and heal the things that was happening in your inner world. What's meant for you will always find you and what's not, will leave you.

It's time for bigger, better and more! No more mediocracy from yourself and others and I mean this in multiple ways! I mean this in a stop giving and receiving mediocracy. You want better? Do better, create better, give better, receive better. When it comes to YOU, stop the mediocracy nonsense and I mean it in a way of stop settling for less than. You deserve more because you're a princess or prince. I used princess because your inner child is needing some attention and healing right now. Someone also could've been a daddy's little girl or a mama's boy. Achievements are on the horizon for a lot of you moving forward. You could be signing something soon or you may be seeing a lot of signs especially keys, moving trucks/vans... and something about church or a specific church building or this may be the church bells that I mentioned earlier. Confidence is key moving forward... I was getting something about marking your territory in some way lmao idk don't shoot the messenger lmao. 33/11/333 are significant. Lastly, you had to learn some really hard and tough lessons but this was to prepare you for what was to come in the near future. Trust me when I say that everything happens for a reason, and some of you may have needed to be or become more disciplined with self. I hope this helps!

**Please keep in mind that these messages are collective messages meaning they may or may not resonate with you and your current situation. If you would like a more personal one on one reading, my prices, cash app, paypal and readings I provide are all pinned on my website. I'm also offering mini readings for $5! PLEASE MESSAGE ME BEFORE SENDING IN ANY PAYMENT! If you're unable to use Paypal/ cash app, I have readings available on my website which is in my bio use code: Grand333 to get the discounted prices.**

[mytalemyworld]

A little ranting and some of my thoughts about Yabani Episode 31...

Since finally I have time, I'm going to get some things off my chest. It'll be a long post, so here we go.

After having seen the writing of episode 28, I said to myself I shouldn't expect anything from this show, especially with the rating pressure it wouldn't get any better. Because the writers show they aren't competent enough to deal with that. I also said as long as it didn't affect my couple, I could ignore the rest and skip the other parts.

However I learned my lesson, if the show is going downhill, probably your couple is not safe either.

In some parts of ep 31 I rolled my eyes, in some parts I didn't understand the motives of some characters. They were trying so hard but it was neither logical nor touching. Especially some lines and some scenes didn't make any sense.

A conflict was needed between Alaz and Yaman, I can see that and of course it would be delicious if it was written well. So no problem for me. But what's this nonsense, excuse me? Serhan may be cruel, evil and a bastard, (and that's why Alaz still doesn't talk to him or expect anything from him and he's okay with going like this) however wanting your father out of your life is one thing, being okay with him dying is another thing.

Alaz: He's my dad, unfortunately and I can't change that, Mom. But is this what he should get in return? Did he deserve this? What are we supposed to do? Should we be happy? What do you want to hear from us?

I mean, if we're talking about the worst traumas, then Elif should get her punishment too, because the girl literally tortured Yaman & Asi and Alaz even though it was for "the greater good".

And these people who went to the hospital to be by their side, to give them comfort and support acted like Soysalan siblings shouldn't get angry because their father was a bad person. Then Yaman got involed in their argument and asked Alaz what his problem was.

I mean, what? How did all of these make sense? This was just plain stupid.

Poor girl found herself in the middle of their conflict.

I knew he wouldn't listen to reason. Not even Asi could calm him down, I was expecting this and wrote it before. He already fought his mom and his brother so when he came to the worst conclusion I didn't think it was out of character.

Alaz: So you're on his (Yaman's) side.

I could have understood this as well. Because even back then, while they were waiting for any good news about Çağla, Asi's first instinct was to prevent him from blaming himself although he was a bad brother to his twin sister. So I guessed he waited to see an unconditional support again, like her getting angry like himself and stopping the other people, not the other way around.

She actually wasn't on Yaman's side but he misunderstood her words.

So, yeah, even though he was acting irrational, I could understand that.

However this…was truly unacceptable.

I think there's a line that shouldn't be crossed while trying to prove you're right about something, especially the other party is someone you deeply care about.

To me, no matter how much angry he was, he would never say that line. Especially after Zafer plot. This guy was ready to die and kill for her, cared about her traumas and pain. You may say he was also behaving like this towards his twin at the beginning of the series, so he can do anything but I beg to differ. First of all I hated him for that matter as well and that happened at the beginning, a very long time ago. He's been through a lot. If he continues acting like he has no empathy, why are we watching this show?

And I know Asi didn't have bad intentions but in order to make him to say those words, they wrote illogical lines for her too.

So why did they write it anyway? Maybe it was for this scene to happen:

To show that she is compassionate and loves him so much despite how much he's fucked up.

Was it worth it? No. Because we already know that.

I think the director couldn't get rid of that line because of the messaging scene, however he could have shown Alaz regretted it later. But he did not.

So some directing and writing choices were really unnecessesary and disappointing.

You can especially tell this is true because after the hospital scene, Yaman said to Alaz how he wished he could have changed everything. I mean, from the beginning he could have seen what Alaz needed but no, he waited for an hour because the show should last 120 minutes.

What did the show benefit from this? Nothing. I mean, if it happened after he had learnt the truth, we could have said he did it because he tried to make her break up with him. But they didn't choose that way.

There were many good scenes but the rooftop scene literally killed my desire to talk about them.

Like this is probably one of my favorite scenes in the whole series.

Alaz: I hate being your son. You're like a nightmare. One can't get rid of you. No matter what I do, you somehow ruin my life again. I'm tired of listening you, your making up excuses, blaming others. I went crazy thinking that something would happen to you today. I forgot all of your crap. I said he was my father no matter what. I forgot everything you did. Don't worry, I will keep silent, I will stomach it again, because I have to. I have to because of your health state, because of your daughter who is scared that something may happen to you, because of Ece. I have to because I have no choice. But you know what the most painful thing is? I will never be able to look at Yaman's face again. I know you won't like hearing this but I really loved being Yaman's brother. But as usual you forcefully took away another thing I love from me. How can I look at my mom's face now? How can I look at Asi's face now? Serhan: If you keep talking like this to me, it will be my face you can never look at. Son- Alaz: Son…Yes, I am your son. This is what's the worst. I am the devil's son. This is my curse. You took away my last hope that I could be a good person. Endless thanks to you.

And this was good too.

Because you can literally pinpoint the moment he started dying inside. For the first time he wanted her to let him go and she said she couldn't do that.

He was always the one who couldn't let her go but this time she said his trademark lines. *fml*

The whole scene was written just like how I imagined. This was not ooc either. But it could have been more impactful if the rooftop scene hadn't happened.

I don't have any expectations right now, if they give me more beautiful scenes that make it look like they were in a delirious state while writing that scene I can try to forget it. However the first 30 episodes will always have a different place in my heart.

[geraltofriviacollection]

Chapter Six

Paring: Geralt x Reader

Summary: Reader is thrown into the Witcher’s world. Will she survive? Eventual smut may come about😉

A/N: This is the first part in a series. I have not edited or proofread. Please do not repost, translate or copy my work without permission. Please leave comments! ❤️

Things seem to settle into a routine. Ciri spends most of her days training with Geralt when she’s not watching me train with Vesemir. I can hold a steady orb of energy and bring it forth with ease. Tapping into the power I had the night I killed Eskel……

The knot in my stomach tightens watching Ciri train. I fear Geralt may not be enough to pull her back from the edge. Seeing her on the obstacle course makes me nervous. Watching her fall off and stand back up in pain makes me proud of her endurance. Geralt walks with her disappearing into the keep. 

A short time later I start to enter the room where Geralt is bandaging her up but ciri comes flying from the room like a bat out of hell. I start to ask if she’s alright but before the words have left she is already far down the hall. 

I turn going into the room and see Geralt kneeling by the bed and he sighs. “Do I want to know what that whole thing was about?” I ask walking further into the room.  He sighs again at my question. “So I am going to take a shot in the dark and guess that you tried to show that you care by imparting a valuable lesson and ended up saying something stupid with all 10 words you use. Did I miss something?” I challenge. 

“Must you always be like this? Such a pain in my ass.” He growls.

“Well I haven’t made any plans on changing but we shall see where the day takes us. Now spill, what did you say to her?” I ask to get back to the point. 

He looks at me for another moment before sighing and moving to sit on the bed. “I told her that she is not a Witcher and that great fighters all end up dead in the end.” He explains looking up at me. This time it's my turn to sigh. “I only told her the truth.”

“Next time less truth would be good.” I say moving to sit next to him I gently place my hand on his as he doesn’t move it from mine. “You may have told her the truth but you also managed to tell her that you don’t believe she can do it.” I told him. 

“I do believe that she will die if she doesn’t understand she isn’t a Witcher. I will not have her die to prove a point.” He says. 

“Geralt, She has lost everything she has ever known in a matter of months. She is trying to figure out her new place in this world. This is not Ciri proving a point, this is Ciri figuring out who she is again. Our job is to keep her safe while she does that. We won’t let anything happen to her. You just need to learn how to be a tiny bit softer with her.” I tell him. He sighs and squeezes my hand. “Now my next piece of advice is that you go and maybe try to talk to her again.”

A few days later I wake up with a strange pit in my stomach like something is about to change. Almost like smelling the wind before rain. In the afternoon I’m still with Vesemir practicing. I’ve learned how to throw balls of energy in my hands at a target. However my aim still has much to be desired so hitting the target is not going well. 

“Lass, I don’t think I have ever seen someone so bad at something.” He frowns at me stroking a hand down his face. 

“You say that and yet I know how you feel when Everard tries to cook a meal.” I joke wiping sweat from my brow. He laughs as he hands me water. I hop up on one of the benches in the lab. “Ves?”

“I thought we agreed that name would not be spoken aloud again.” He mumbles working on something next to me. 

“I agreed not to speak that name aloud in front of others, since I am your new favorite you have agreed to indulge me.” I grin at him. He rolls his eyes at me. 

“What is it you want to know, Lass?” He smirks. 

“Why aren’t there any woman Witcher’s?” The question hangs in the air before he responds. 

“Over the years since the Witchers came to be, women have been put in the trials. Not a single one of them have survived. Deglan believed it had something to do with the-“ 

I tense as I feel something in the air has shifted. 

“What is it, Lass?” Vesesmir interrupts himself. 

“I don’t know. Something has shifted. I can’t tell much more than that.” I stumble through my explanation. Vesemir comes in front of me and tilts my head side to side. Just then my stomach rumbles quite loudly. He smiles. 

“I think we may have found the problem.” He laughs. We walked down to the great hall only to find Lambert there. Vesemir walks over to talk to him and I naturally go in the other direction considering…. Well everything.

The door opens and Ciri comes in first with a red headed woman behind her and Geralt coming in last. She looks familiar and very pretty. I can seem to place her name. 

“I brought dinner," he says with a dead boar on his shoulders. The rumbling in my stomach halts like a foot slamming in the brakes looking at that thing. A very familiar feeling arises down south the longer I look at Geralt holding that boar. 

“More than that.” Vesemir says breaking my creepy stare and He glances over at me before turning back to the woman. “My child, what a surprise.” He walks to her and she kisses his cheek hello. 

“Oh hell, haven’t even had my fill of grog yet and ,already the women are tripling.” Lambert says. “Merigold.”

“Lambert, I see your wounds have improved but your manners have not.” Light laughter fills the air. 

“I wish you had come sooner. We all could have used you.” Vesemir says to her. Sorrow and guilt make my throat and chest tighten. 

“Hopefully, we still can.” Geralt says, turning to look at me. I’m not at all fond of that problematic transition. Her eyes follow his and she sees me standing there. Ciri sees me for the first time and comes to join me at my side. I smile down at her before looking back up at Geralt and my eyes move back to the red headed woman. 

“I’m Triss. Geralt has told me about you on our walk here.” She smiles at me. I smile back at her. 

“I imagine it couldn’t have been very much, considering that he mainly communicates in grunts.” Ciri and Tris chuckle. 

“I think I might like her.” Tris says, looking at Geralt and them me. He rolls his eyes with a slight uptick in my mouth. “It’s very nice to meet you.” She smiles again at me. “I’ll go and dress for dinner. I assume you’ll want to wash up as well?” She says to everyone. Chuckles go around again. She takes that as a no before leaving the room. 

Ciri takes a seat. “So, How do you know her?” She ask Geralt. He sighs and I smirk before intervening. 

“I'm sure he will tell you all about it after you have washed up.” I tell her. She gives me a look that calls bullshit. “Okay maybe not but that does not change the fact that if you sit here much longer you might smell worse than that boar.” Ciri grunts in discontentment before leaving the room as well.  “You know she gets that from you.” I smirk at him. He rolls his eyes again before walking off leaving me. 

Dinner with Triss is a rather uneventful occasion. I learned enough to know that I like having another female in the keep. Even though we are still woefully outnumbered, the energy has shifted into peaceful uncertainty. Something still feels like teetering on the edge of chaos like a shoe waiting to fall.

I leave the table first, stealing myself away to the armory. I stay there practicing controlling this power to avoid sleeping. The nightmares for killing Eskel haunt me when I close my eyes. Watching the life drain from him is the only part that seems to be crystal clear in my memory. My only hope at night is to push myself hard enough to have dreamless sleep.

 My fear of dreaming is not the only thing that keeps me awake at night. The longer I stay the more I have begun to feel some of my memories of the storyline fade. Not big things but smaller details. I can’t help but to feel purposeful. 

It’s late into the night by the time I leave to head to my room. I am about to turn the corner when I hear voices across the way. 

“If it’s up to me, everyone will know their names.Perhaps  they can live on in our memories. Perhaps something more.” I recognize Triss speaking. “You witchers pretend not to have emotions, but you do. I know you feel it too. All of it. Normal love, normal hatred,normal pain, normal fear and regret, normal joy and normal sadness.” I peak around the corner and across the courtyard I see Triss taking Geralt's hand in hers. “Stay with me tonight.” She says. Geralt starts to talk but Triss cuts him off. “Only stay. Let’s not be alone.” she says. 

‘Nope, don’t like that.’ I think to myself watching this unfold in front of me. I try to suppress my inner psychotic dialogue and try to attempt being reasonable. Geralt probably is lonely and Triss is sad and beautiful. Maybe he should take her up on her offer… Yeah fuck that I’m still not liking it. Just as I’m about to run over to break up whatever the hell this is, Geralt takes his hand from Triss. 

“I’m sorry.” Geralt says before walking away from her. Triss stands there a moment before walking away. I let out a sigh of relief when I heard a voice behind me and nearly hit the ceiling at the abrupt sound. 

“So are you going to tell him?” Vesemir ask once I have calmed down from my near heart attack. 

“Damn it Ves! I almost woke up the whole keep with you coming behind me like that.” I whisper yell at him. 

“From the looks of it you were about to wake the keep by fighting one of the best mages I know.” He said teasingly. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about, old man.” I say lying like a rug through my teeth and starting to turn back around. 

“You and I both know you have feelings for him. I think he might return them if you tell him.” He says, causing me to pause. I nod my head before going to my room.

The next morning I leave the keep on Roach to find a berry patch. I’ve managed to half way fill the basket when I feel the string between ciri and I tighten. The feeling travels through me so abruptly I drop my basket berries and the glow starts. I leave the basket and mount Roach and we rush back to the keep. When we finally make it back I push the reins into Lambert's hand rushing in not even hearing what he says.  I run through the halls and find her in her bed. Geralt standing next to her and Triss sitting on the edge of her bed. 

“I felt it. What happened?” I ask them but panting. 

“She went into some weird trance and passed out a second later.” Geralt explains. 

“What do you mean you felt it?” Triss asks me. 

“How long has she been like this?” I hiss looking between Geralt and Triss.

“Not long.” He tells me. I lean down and the second my hand brushes her cheek her eyes open and I jump a bit at the movement. 

“Cirilla” Geralt calls out to her moving closer. I back up and give her room to sit up. “

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” she repeats covering her face with her hands. Geralt looks at Triss before looking between Ciri and I. 

“Ciri, look at me.” I say to her firmly but gently. “You need to tell us what happened.” I say moving to wrap an arm around her. She leans into me but stays quiet. Geralt comes even closer. 

“You are brave. But let us help.” He says looking at her. She finally moves her hands from her face. 

“All right.” She sighs. “When the black Knight captured me..I was scared. I screamed. 

And that’s when the monolith cracked and fell.” She pauses and looks up at Geralt. “I toppled it.” I hugged her closer to me. I can feel the way she trembles as I hold her. 

“How can that be?” Triss ask looking at Geralt. 

“I don’t know.” Geralt replies. “I need to see it for myself.”

“I really didn’t mean to do it, Geralt.” She says pulling away from me and I can see the tears in her eyes. My chest tightens at the sight. “And if these monsters are my fault…” She trails off looking at me.

“Ciri, Nobody blames you. It was an accident.” I tell her pulling her back to me and she fully sinks in my embrace. A lone tear streaks down her pale face. 

“It’s alright. We’ll fix it.” Geralt says placing a hand on her arm not cuddled into me. She nodded her head before closing her eyes as a few more tears fall. I look up at Geralt and the look on his face tell me we need to talk. He walks out of the room. 

Tris leaves shortly after. Ciri and I sit together until the trembling stops and the tears have dried. I stay until her breathing has evened out and her eyes have closed. I pull away from her as gently as I can so I don’t wake her. 

I leave Ciri to find Geralt only to overhear another somewhat intimate conversation. 

“You are important to me, Triss. You always will be.” He says. I decide that is a good time to make my entrance because well I have heard enough of that. 

“Care to fill me in on what you plan is big guy?” I ask him walking in and effectively smashing whatever fucking vibe was just in the air.

“You’re going to Cintra.” Vesemir says, rounding the corner behind Geralt. 

“Cintra?” I question.

“You said you’d never go back there.” Vesemir says to Geralt.

“Cintra holds the answers that I need.” He says, looking at me. “Besides, no Witcher has died of old age lying in his bed dictating his will. I have a girl to protect. I can’t just stay here.”

“I have a friend who studies monoliths. I can portal you to him.” Triss offers. 

“Portals are no fun.” Is all Geralt says. 

“Do you think you could excuse us for a moment?” I ask looking at Vesemir and Triss. They both nod before leaving us. “How long will you be gone?” I ask him.

“Not long enough that you will not be annoyed with all my grunting when I come back.” He says with a slight uptick in his smile as he takes a couple of steps closer to me. 

“Under different circumstances I might not mind your grunting so much.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can catch them. I feel my face get hot. I take a look at Geralt to find an amused sort of smirky smile on his face. “I mean I wanted an answer in hours to days.”

Geralt is close enough that I can feel his body heat as he looks down at me. “A few days. Less than a week.” He says softly.

@freegardenbanananeck

[kittyenchanted]

Should I Write This AU?

Rough plot draft 70s movie AU where 21-year-old Henry Winter becomes the tutor to wealthy Julian Morrow's sickly, frail, daughter, who is the same age as Henry. He becomes a sort of live-in tutor, (if there's a name for that) starting off with helping Evangeline with the classics. Something HORRIBLE happens, however. They both fall in LOVE. MADLY in love. See, Julian cared very deeply about his daughter's health, but things in her life are complicated. she's TERMINALLY ill, and probably won't make it to the end of the year. Her dream was to finish college even if she died right after because things hadn't been looking good for her future for years. Julian, after seeing Henry kiss Evangeline, calls her into his office. he tells her he doesn't want him interacting with Evangeline like that ever again. Henry asks why. Julian confesses that Evangeline is sicker than he first let on, and a romance between the two of them would lead to heartbreak. Henry tells Evangeline they can't be in love. he remains her tutor, keeping his distance emotionally, until one day, Evangeline faints during a lesson. they rush her to the hospital and learn she only has a month maximum to live. Henry runs out and grieves. Julian finds him and admits that Evangeline NEEDS HIM, and tells Henry to hold her close to him and never let go during her last month. Now, I really have to figure out the ending for two reasons.

I don't know how to end it. Should it end with evangeline's death on page, or an implied fade out. which brings me to...

I have an idea for the ending, but i don't know whether it will be plagarizing. I want to pay homage to some 70s movie aesthetics with this one, but i don't want to seem like i'm openly copying the movie Play Misty For Me. See, in the movie, Cint Eastwood and Donna Mills's characters have a romantic scene in nature with the song 'The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face' by Roberta Flack played. My favorite ending idea is right after julian telling henry to be with evangeline in her last days, henry breaks the news to evangeline of what will happen, and that he'll be with her. The ending will be a flash forward set during about the last week of evangeline's life. It will be a small scene of henry guiding her through the garden, holding her hands, and helping her walk, while the Roberta Flack song plays. There will be no words spoken. Henry will pick flowers for Evangeline, and vice versa. The ending shot will be henry laying down against a tree with evangeline pressed against his chest. See, i imagine this sort of the ending of a movie, having the camera focus on evangeline lying in henry's arms, then the camera panning up, like a flyover camera, as the credits also appear, with the camera panning across the mansion and landscape as an instrumental of the song plays.

LOL, this ending literally popped up in my head as I was writing this... How about the camera pause on henry and evangeline under the tree, with white text appearing stating 'Evangeline Morrow died in her home surrounded by loved ones a week later."

I don't know which ending is my favorite yet. I think 1 because it makes it more ambiguous. it never tells you when she died, or anything about her death. I like endings that make you guess. Ending 2, on the other hand, is more direct and confirming.

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 8, Part 6

Carson continues his appointment after which he and Kayleigh meet up with friends for dinner.

Low level content warning: discussions of anxiety disorder

Carson: I guess... the asthma has been harder than I thought

Dr H: How so

Carson: Well it seemed to just come out of nowhere. I’ve got this inhaler for asthma attacks but I don’t think I’ve had one yet. I still keep it on me, just in case. I get worried about what could set it off

Dr H: And how do you cope with that worry

Carson: Not well I guess. But I can look after myself. I have a whole cleaning routine for my room to keep it dust free

Dr H: Tell me about that

Carson begins to explain the process he does to clean his room, when he wakes up and after dinner, just to be safe.

Dr H: Can I ask, what would happen if you didn’t do this

Carson: Well there’d be dust and it would make me have an asthma attack which would probably hurt a lot if it didn’t kill me

Dr H: Okay. Now when you’re outside of your room, how do you feel about the asthma triggers then

Carson: Home isn’t too bad, mum makes sure it’s vacuumed for me. And most of the places at school are okay, at least first thing. Mrs Tinker, my teacher, told me that cleaners come every night at 6. They wipe everything down and vacuum. But by the end of the school day I get worried about the dead skin in the air though. Like how much will actually end up in my lungs

The conversation continues with Dr Hanks asking more about Carson’s routines and his worries. Kayleigh sits through as best she can, trying only to say things when she’s asked, or if Carson looks to her for support. She’s a bit shocked to learn how much he actually does to try avoid asthma attacks, not all of them logical choices. All her kids have tended to be academically gifted so when she hears Carson is doing things that would have no actual impact on an asthma attack she does wonder where the behaviour has come from.

Dr H: Thanks for sharing all of that Carson. I know it’s not easy to talk to a stranger about inner thoughts

Carson: It’s tough. I just… I guess I don’t want to be worried about asthma attacks all the time

Dr H: Based on today it does appear that you have developed an anxiety disorder. In particular I believe you may have OCD. Do you know what that is?

Carson: It’s like when you need everything to be neat?

Dr H: For some. Those with OCD, obsessive compulsive disorder, often find themselves developing obsessions or compulsions which they use to manage their anxiety. While it may work in the short term, it’s not healthy in the long term

Carson: So I’m broken

Kayleigh: He didn’t say that honey

Dr H: I don’t think you’re broken. I think you just need some extra help, we all need extra help from time to time

Carson: Can you get rid of it

Dr H: Psychological conditions are complex. They’re not like a tumour which can be cut out. What we need to do instead is work on strategies which will help you cope with the anxiety in a safer way that does not interfere with your life as much, so that you can enjoy life. We have a few options to help. One, which I would highly recommend, is going to therapy

Dr H: Talking through the anxieties can often help minimise the danger they present, and lesson the compulsions. However if your mood is already off balance I would suggest also starting on some medication to get you in a better headspace before starting therapy. How does that sound

Carson: Yeah, I mean… if it’ll help

Dr H: Now these medications can have side effects, and will take time to build up. Your medical insurance should help with the cost of them though

Kayleigh: Cost doesn’t matter, whatever he needs

Dr H: *smiles* I shall refer you to a therapist then, and send a script to the pharmacy for you to collect. We should meet up again after you’ve done that for a while to see how it’s affecting you. Does that sound okay Carson?

Carson: Do I… do I need to tell people

Dr H: Entirely up to you, perhaps it’s one of the first things you could discuss with the therapist. Do you have any other questions for me

Carson: Mum?

Kayleigh: How long until he can see a therapist

Dr H: It will take some time to match Carson with someone who specialises in OCD, more and more sims are needing our services lately, but you should hear from someone with an appointment in the next few months

Carson: Why do I feel like I need a nap

Kayleigh: You’ve had a big day, exams and then Dr Hanks. Are you sure you still want to do dinner

Carson: Yeah but… I probably wont tell them much until I’ve seen the therapist

Kayleigh: We will need to tell your dad, but apart from him it’s your health. You choose who you do or don’t want to know

Carson: So Charlie and Keira and…. Reece don’t have to know

Kayleigh: Not if you don’t want them to honey

Carson: Thanks mum, seriously

For dinner Carson and Kayleigh head to the Sulani Restaurant built by EA ID: VeronicaDumm. Onyx is here with their mum Eliza, Bob has opted to stay home and watch Fergus since Harvey won’t be there. Darwin and William are also invited to celebrate surviving the exams.

Kayleigh: Can we have a table for six please

Server: Mrs Foster? Of course! If you follow me we have a lovely table up here with the best view of the ocean… and the kitchen

Darwin: So bro how’d it go

Carson: Well they concluded I’m alive

Onyx: always nice to know

Carson: The dude we saw was pretty nice

Kayleigh: He was. Very good listener

Eliza: That’s good, our kids deserve proper care

Darwin: Did he like totally shrink your head

Carson: Does my head look smaller than normal

Darwin: It’s not a great light

Carson: *laughs* It was actually not stereotypical

Jimin: What can I get you to eat

Kayleigh: Oh I would love some Kalua pork, is that on the menu?

Jimin: It certainly is Mrs Foster

Eliza: I know we’re in Sulani but I don’t know about pork

Jimin: The chef does a fantastic Island Vegetable Feast if that would be more to your taste

Eliza: Yes thank you

Carson: And we’ll all have nectar

Kayleigh: We will not. Eliza and I can drink but the rest of you 14 year olds get rootbeer floats

There’s general grumbling from the kids but can’t be bending nectar rules when at the table nearby is top prosecutor Aaron dining with cop Amabel. They’re just tying up the case against Liam, Aaron would not be stepping out on his wife I promise.

Darwin: Go back to what you were saying Carson

Carson: Oh yeah so I was totally expecting some long as couch and an old white man telling me to close my eyes and imagine my childhood

Kayleigh: *laughs* luckily we didn’t get that

Eliza: No couch or no old white guy

Carson: Both. He was maybe 30’s and black. He did have three couches, but they were all short, I wouldn’t be able to stretch out on one

Onyx: But what if you really needed a nap

William: Nap before you go Onyx

Onyx: Don’t confuse me with your logic

William: Did it help

Carson: Yes, it did. He thinks it would be good to go see a therapist for a bit

Darwin: Makes sense. Oh yes! Food! Finally!

The various drinks and dishes arrive and everyone seated has a moment as they get excited about the food.

Eliza: Maybe I shouldn’t eat it all. I’m sure Bob would like to taste some

William: Thanks for getting us all dinner Mrs Foster

Kayleigh: You’re very welcome William

Eliza: Have you heard how your exams went yet

Carson: I did well

Darwin: Me too which is weird because I didn’t study

William: No, you just copied everyone else’s work

Darwin: Po-tay-toe po-tah-toe

Onyx: I did good mother so a horse-

Eliza: Yes but Onyx you did just get detention

Darwin: Don’t blame them Mrs Pancakes, Mr A was being Mr Arse that day

Carson: He gave me detention to

Onyx: See mother I told you

Eliza: *sighs*

Darwin: I better get home or my mums will wonder if I got killed

Everyone thanks Kayleigh and begins to head home.

William: I told you you’d be fine in the appointment

Carson: Yeah, it definitely helped. And who knows, therapy could be good

William: Well if you can’t talk to them you can always talk to me

Carson: Thanks Will. Hey is this an okay light for a selfie

William: You look great

Carson: Knew it

Kayleigh: Harv, we’re home! Are you-

Harvey: I’m here, I’m here

Kayleigh: Oh you do not look good. Did you rest properly today

Harvey: Of course I did. But then my muscles got stiff so I thought I should have a swim

Kayleigh: *sighs* That’s not going to get you better

Harvey: No but you’re going to get me better *kisses cheek*

Kayleigh: Did you get my text? I didn’t want to call in case you were napping

Harvey: I did, OCD huh

Kayleigh: Yep. But he doesn’t want to tell anyone about it just now so no blabbing

Harvey: I won’t, I won’t. Thanks for taking him,  wish I could of but-

Kayleigh: But you’re sick and need to rest

Harvey: Yeah. I think I’m getting better though, it’s just rough

Kayleigh: I know we can hardly call 11 an early night but let’s go sleep huh

Harvey: Yeah sleep sounds great sugar

This concludes the Foster chapter. Keira and Marta are here for now but next rotation will have their own home. Harvey and Kayleigh sleep and dream of retirement while Carson dreams of a clean room.

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