#not that while I’m gone people send me asks or messages and wonder why I don’t answer even though I post a fact daily

[writerfae]

Hey everyone!

So uh, this might end up unnoticed anyway, but I wanted to let you know that I’ll log off of tumblr for the whole month of August, so I won’t be around.

August also happens to be Halea’s birthday month, so the timing is unfortunate, but I need a breather again.

I have scheduled a Halea fact post once a day as well as her moodboard and hope that tumblr won’t let me down and actually post it all like it’s supposed to.

On the last day of August I’ll be back for the final of Halea’s birthday month, so feel free to ask questions about her.

Generally, you can keep tagging me and sending asks, I’ll gladly get to those once I am back. Just don’t wonder why I don’t answer as fast as I usually would.

[jymwahuwu]

hi lani ☺️ I was wondering how you think yandere jing yuan behaves when he’s jealous? the same au where he spam calls/texts reader. what if they ignored him. explaining that they didn’t reply because they were on a phone call for a long time. (and it’s during the late hours) 😗 who would be calling his baby this time of the night? reader has been using dating apps. they even tried to sneak out to go on a real date without telling him!! >_< the general isn’t really their boyfriend by choice, so they are still trying to date 🫢 how would he react to this??

>_< wren please accept my digital hugs!! reading this got me bouncing in a good mood! i was also thinking about what happens when jing yuan is jealous, your creative mind gave me this scenario!!

CW: yandere, dub-con, surveillance, taking photos without permission

Jing Yuan's jealousy is harmless, and that's before you're dating or in a relationship. He just hugs you and mutters that you won't be allowed to meet those people and plans to ruin their good impression on you. But if in this case, it is that you have not responded to his messages, perfunctory, or even sneaked out to date someone…

Jing Yuan has been monitoring your network usage, but he tries to give you a comfortable feeling that you are not in control, so he turns off some detailed feedback, and just checks what you are doing, such as which apps you are using, what The website you are visiting. He misses you late at night and keeps sending you messages asking how you are doing. He sent you a photo, but you still ignored him. He wants to go to your house, but turns on the surveillance camera and finds that you have gone out. What are you doing late at night?

Jing Yuan found that you are using an interstellar dating app. What is his baby doing with the app? Do you want to betray him? You want to cheat on him? He felt his heart tighten. He removed the privacy permissions that were set during the Xianzhou Technology hack to view your personal data on dating apps. Did you… click "Likes" to those people? Which of them has better conditions than him? Who seduced you? He checked your chat history. And these are the content of messages that send messages to each other and are interested in each other. You reply frequently, tell the other person what you like, and even reply to some flirtatious messages. This is totally different from treating him (“Hmm. Got it. Morning. I’m going out, we’ll chat later.”). Jing Yuan's mischievous and relaxed smirk disappeared. The general checked the messages on his phone without expression. Quiet rage; quiet volcanic ash.

No matter what you do for a living, you have found your residence seized for "suspicious criminal reasons." You're forced to look up house information and spend a few nights in a mess. You call your crush on a dating app and ask if he/she/they can help. However, the call cannot be connected. Then, you're shocked to find that person matched with someone else on a dating app and blocked you. Betrayal stings in your heart. With tears in your eyes, you received a message from Jing Yuan. In the message he asks you why you don't live in that place anymore and claims to miss his baby :( He arranged for you to live in his mansion. You have no choice but to say yes.

Jing Yuan didn't hide his intentions and groped you. This is the sweet thing couples should do. The general's strong hands wrap around your waist, pushing against your walls and stretching your pelvis, pumping the warm white seeds inside you. “Jing- Jing Yuan…!!” Like electricity flowing through your depths, and you are convulsed and forced to declare your love for him. That night, in the Xianzhou-style mansion, the birds were resting on the trees, or flying on the windows curiously looking at you carefully. Jing Yuan caresses you while you enjoy your peaceful sleep. He muses for a moment, smiling, before he explores between your thighs with his thick thumbs. He mercilessly gave you another orgasm with his fingers in your sleep before applying the seeds to your face.

The camera of his cell phone is facing you. A photo was taken and sent with an obscene message to the person who had been banished to a remote planet many light-years away. He's already figured out how to pamper you for the rest of the day ^ ^ Maybe it's a little rough, but that's the price of cheating, right?

[ilexdiapason]

(part one here)

Martyn, as it turns out, only has three phone numbers memorised.

One of them is his own. The second is his mother’s, which he tries, and receives the unfortunate information that the number has been disconnected and leads nowhere.

He finally has some luck with the third, the landline phone number of his house - while nobody picks this up, either, it does connect to somewhere at least. Martyn is able to leave a voicemail explaining that he’s out of the situation he was in that meant he couldn’t come home, and that he’ll be there by tonight.

“Where’s there?” Oli asks, kind of hoping Martyn won’t need a lift to Bristol or anything out of the way like that.

“Nottingham,” Martyn replies, guarded.

Oh - that’s not so bad, then. “I can give you a lift down, if you need?”

“Aren’t you busy?”

“Oh, no.” Oli’s remote working today; as long as he keeps an eye on his emails, nobody should even notice he’s gone, and if he can always call in a family emergency if Martyn does take him up on the offer to drive. It is a family emergency, after all, it seems - just not Oli’s family.

Martyn perks up at the response, though. “Oh, I getcha. Job market, eh?” He makes a cutting motion across his throat, with noise to match.

“No, I’ve got a job! A pretty good one, actually. That’s why I can afford living on my own.”

“Ah.” A silence, and then Martyn flicks the phone back on in his hands. “Oh, god. December 2023?”

“... Yes?” Why did you not know what month it was? Or, from the sounds of it, what year?

“God, my mum’s gonna be out of her wits, that’s awful.” He flicks at the screen - then, sheepish, asks, “What’s your passcode?”

“Here, I’ll -” Oli takes it out of his hands, taps in the shape of a circle “- what d’you want?”

“Oh, I was just gonna google myself.”

Oli pulls up Google. Waits, expectantly.

“Er - Martyn Littlewood.”

And oh, jesus, yeah, that’s a missing persons case. Last seen April 2021, no wonder he was bloody worried about the year, suspect investigated but no proof identified, case well and truly cold.

Martyn must see it in his face the way he’s started, because he grimaces. “That bad?”

“About what you’d expect,” says Oli, turning the phone around to face Martyn. He snatches it, which is unexpected but honestly not out of character for the stuff he remembers from Martyn in-game.

Wait.

“Hold on - how were you getting on SMPs with us lot if you were… whatever you were?”

Martyn grimaces harder. “Long story. Difficult, too. Let’s just say there’s a lotta people who I last saw lunging for my neck, and they’re not gonna stop because I’m here.”

“Are you a wanted man? Do I need to barricade the doors, close the blinds, what?”

“Nah, nah - just keep me away from your computer.” He pauses again to consider that. “Actually. If you’re here, does that mean everyone else is too?”

“What, the other people on the server? Well, they’re not here, but I could message people if you want, say you’ve… I don’t know, turned up at Sainsbury’s?”

“I’m an ASDA man myself,” Martyn cracks, and then frowns at the screen. “So can I go on your Discord? I won’t send anything. I just want to know.”

“Erm - sure.”

He taps through, immediately lights up. “Scott!”

Ah, yeah, he had been DMing Scott this morning. Something about axolotls, if he’s not mistaken. “Yeah! He’s all the way in Brighton, though, I don’t know if I could swing that much of a lift.”

“And Bek. And Eloise, and - oh my god, I need to know what Sausage’s real name is.”

“I’ve never asked.”

“You just call him Sausage, all the time?”

“S’funny, innit?”

Martyn nods solemnly. “It is funny.”

He sits like that for a while, scrolling through Oli’s DM history, muttering names under his breath. “I mean,” says Oli, “we can add you, if you like.”

“God. Yeah, you prob’ly can. Let me try it.”

A few seconds later, and Martyn’s handing back the phone to Oli with a pending friend request to InTheLittleWood in tow. “Don’t know why you didn’t offer that before, if you’re so excited.”

“Couldn’t,” Martyn says nonchalantly.

“Right, and does that have something to do with this missing persons case of yours?”

His face falls. “Yeah, actually. Something like that.”

“Ah.”

They decide to wait until either his mum calls Oli back or Oli is officially clocked out of work to get back in the car. Until then, it seems like it’s time for Oli to get Martyn up to speed on the last… two and a half years, good lord, that’s a while…

(part three here)

[believesthings]

Not Just A Girl - Chapter 7 // Jason Sudeikis x Reader

You keep referring back to your calendar and then, when catching yourself in the act, huffing out of frustration. Tomorrow you will be back for second fittings for the James & Mia project, which they still had yet to give a working title – and if all goes well tomorrow, you’ll be back in on Friday for photos in costume.

Jason has already left for London with the rest of the cast and crew that you have grown to know through frequent set visits. Tom has been enlisting most of the actors he is working with to help him to send you short clips of funny moments on set, though such horseplay has died down in the past few days. Your favorites usually had Jason interacting with Theo whose humor had quickly endeared him to you. They always seemed to be having such fun, but you were glad to not be in their dizzying path. Your set visits had given you your fill of their combined antics, you’d settle for just Jason's endless energy from now on, thank you very much.

You are concentrating on sending Jason a message on your phone while you are leaving in the morning for the studio and stumble over a newspaper that had been left in front of your door. Odd, as you get typically your news via your phone. Rather than taking the time to walk it into your room you stuff the paper into your bag. Maybe someone else in the crew would like to read the publication.

Before you are even fully admitted to the wardrobe room you can hear that Brett is in today as well. He is standing with his back to you, his arms slightly splayed out to his sides as pins are used to adjust a suit to fit him more snugly. His shoulders are shaking with laughter, which is causing the two people trying to make adjustments to half-heartedly glare at him.

They picked a wonderful cut for him so why they are bothering with alterations you can’t imagine. Everett, the production’s wardrobe designer is nowhere to be seen but you know he is present. Alterations to one of his creations without his critical eye observing? Unthinkable! You nod greetings to the two tailors and sit down to wait to be told what to do.

Brett does his best to keep his body still but turn his head far enough to see behind him. “Morning.”

You motion for him to turn back around so the suit jacket hangs correctly, receiving grateful expressions from both tailors. “Morning Brett. Been here long?”

“Still on London time.”

Right. He had flown in for the awards, then went straight back to the job afterwards. London, of course, makes you think of Jason. You’ll call him after you are given your marching orders for the day. “Must be fun, arguing with your internal clock.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t tried to keep similar hours. Jason always worries about a good time to call.”

Having a conversation with the back of someone’s head is a little odd. “You talked to Jason?”

Brett nods. “This morning. He says Hi. And asked me to pass along the message to call as soon as you're free. And something about being in slow motion which I can only assume to be an inside joke?”

You are saved from having to explain what it means by Everett coming into the room with a bunch of papers in his hand. He stops when he sees you and scoffs playfully, “She sits and studies the stitching. Up, up. Let’s work on Mia’s wardrobe!”

The suit hangs on the rack, the man it was fitted to now gone from the room when you return with your own pieces that needed slight adjustments. Since there were so few changes needed you are released early. You don’t have anything else to do so you end up back at the hotel, trying to figure out how to occupy your time. Everett has assured you that everything will be ready for photos tomorrow. You can’t wait to see how everything looks once put together. Full makeup, costume, maybe a few props…

You miss Jason when you call to update him on the news. After leaving a brief message find yourself once again at the mercy of the clock. Considering you’ve lived pretty much out of your suitcase since arriving in town there isn’t all that much to do to pack for your move. Sifting items from drawers to your bags doesn’t take all that much time so you opt to clear the desktop of the little mementos and paperwork.

Most of the items are from places you visited while filming All Your Monsters but a few are things sent to you from fans. When you look at the clock again you sigh, only two hours have passed. You’ve already organized and then reorganized the constantly building stack of screenplays and appearance requests that Todd keeps handing you. Ever since the awards show, every time you thought that you had made headway he appeared with more. You finally had to lock them away in the room’s safe to keep yourself from trying to find a new way to order them.

The next morning you sit cross-legged in the hallway, your phone resting atop your now forgotten pages. You had been left to your own devices for the time being. Your coffee – only the second cup this morning thank you very much – has nearly cooled enough to drink without scalding the roof of your mouth. You had decided to use the time to continue to study the script, but had abandoned that venture when you see Jason's call come through. You can’t help but smile as you greet him. “Good morning sir. I miss you.”

“I miss you as well. I didn’t call too early?”

You’ve been at the studio at least an hour now. “Already been in with wardrobe once this morning.”

“Have you seen much of Brett today?”

You look around while replying, as though Jason will summon your costar. “Not today – I saw him briefly yesterday but only long enough to say hello. He always seems to know more about your day than I do…”

“My day? I got up this morning, watched a beautiful sunrise, and thought of you. You did film part of All Your Monsters here in London if I remember correctly. Did you get to sightsee at all?”

“No, not really. Will did try but we ran out of time and had to move on to the next location.” You sigh into the phone. Great, now you were both missing Jason and wondering what Will was doing with himself.

Jason sounds like he is pacing, moving around an enclosed space at least. “We’ll have to rectify that.” What time was it for him – ten? He had waited most of the morning to call.

“Yes. I would love that. How is the job?”

“Exciting. Frustrating. Keeping me busy. Do they have a villain for the All Your Monsters sequel yet? Or maybe a new love interest?”

You laugh into the phone, “You don’t have to be my costar to see me, you know. There’s this thing called video chat…”

“There’s being able to see you and,” his voice lowers, “being able to see you.”

“Jason!” His laughter over the line both delights and saddens you. You know exactly what he means. You look around to see if anybody is close enough to overhear the conversation.

Your phone is alerting you to an incoming video chat request and you tap the screen to find Jason still laughing. “Had to check if you were blushing.” He grins merrily. Just seeing him while he speaks to you helps to boost your mood again. That settles it, you’re going to find a way to fly there and surprise him soon.

“Of course I’m blushing. I’m in public and you’re making me think about being tangled in your arms.” You’ve hunched down slightly while furtively speaking to the phone in your lap.

“New hair, I see. Is that for the character of Mia?” Ah – you’d meant to take a picture to show him after they had finished it this morning but you’d gotten distracted.

You finger gently through your locks, "Yeah, We're testing out some styles, trying to find what works, they said they might make some changes."

“I vote to keep it like that. It looks great!”

 “I’ll tell them you approve.” Someone’s calling for you. Of course they’re now ready for you to come back in for photos. You glance away from the screen, and thereby Jason, and sigh. “I’ve got to go. But London. That’s a yes.”

Jason’s slight frown presses into view the two creases that run straight up between his eyebrows. How you wish you could smooth them out of view again. He doesn’t want to say goodbye either it seems. “Just a matter of finding time.”

“Yes…” You pick up your phone and untangle your crossed legs so you can stand. “I’ll call later?” You wait to see him nod before ending the call and pushing everything that had been in your lap into your bag. Oh, you’d also forgotten about the newspaper from yesterday morning. Oh well, it will continue to travel with you.

While playing dress up – yes you know that isn’t what you’re doing at the studio so bright and early this morning but that’s how you are determined to think of it – you’ve come to realize that while everyone is polite, no one really seems all that talkative with you.

By break at lunchtime you’ve had enough, “What? Does my hair look awful?” Your outburst sends most everyone scurrying.

Everett is the one to respond. “It’s not the hair –.” “It’s nerves and trying to figure you out.”

Confusion now mixes with frustration. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re intimidating,”

“I’m really not.” You reach up to fuss with your hair, unsure what else to do and desperately needing to fidget.

“You are. We all know your background. You could talk shop with most of us but you don’t. It took me all morning the first day to get you to open up past general introductions.”

“Everett that’s unfair, you were taking measurements and told me to hold still.”

He laughs. “Yeah, hold still, not become mute.”

“Besides, you guys don’t want to hear some nobody actor try to relate your work back to her theater days.” You try to wave him off.  

Evidently the walls have ears because you hear someone giggle, “The nobody actor that everybody wants to work with.”

You make a face at Everett for starting this which makes him grin and call out to the others who are making their way back to their work, “Ok – so different conversation since she’s too guarded to talk shop. Suggestions?”

Yes let’s open up the forum shall we: the life and times of the woman about to strangle her costume designer. One of the assistants is quick to pipe up, “Ooooh Jason! Tell us about Jason” A flurry of questions and pleas of encouragement follow. “Yes tell us about Jason, please.” “What’s it like dating him?” “Does he do a good British accent?”

Up until now nobody had really referenced the fact that you were dating Jason. Evidently it had been on everyone’s mind… “Er, so about Mia’s color scheme…” You are rewarded with a few laughs but everyone still seems to be waiting to see if you’ll share details about your relationship. After confirming that you were dating and fielding a few general questions both of you agreed to keep the details of your relationship as private as you could. The cast and crew here would eventually feel like family but until you trusted them more you’d stick to the basics. “I’m really fortunate to have him in my life."

You give Everett a look and he gives you a short nod of understanding before steering the conversation on to the next topic. “Talking about accents – when we went to pick up materials the girl cutting behind the counter had the most adorable Russian lilt…”

You are thrilled with the combined results of hair, makeup, and costumes. Mia is finally manifesting someplace other than on paper and in your head. You’ve signed the paperwork for renting a small place about an hour away from the studio so you are officially – at least temporarily – a resident of Los Angeles! The read through for James & Mia won’t happen for at least a week which gives you plenty of time to settle in to the new place and work out the best routes to and from the studio. Scrolling through your messages you see that Jason has sent you a series of pictures showing you the progression of his day. He looks tired in the last few and you sigh softly, “Don’t push yourself too hard, Jase…”

But wait, you have a week, at least a week… Screw getting your new place set up – there will be plenty of time to get it to feel like home. A quick search and you begin to scroll through possible flights to London. You can take advantage of the fact that the promotional period for All Your Monsters only just ended and you’ve grown accustomed to the wait to get through Customs.

You still have to run it by Todd- redirecting the taxi to the airport isn’t practical, you would at least need to grab your bag from your room – once again the benefits of living out of your suitcase make you smile. Maybe you can talk Brett into being your inside man and finding out where Jason will be when you figure out when you’ll be flying in – to surprise Jason – oh! You’re liking the idea more and more.

You quickly tap out messages to both Todd and Brett alerting them to your newly formed plans. Brett seems game but you can feel Todd’s glare as you read the words of his response:

We just went through all that paperwork for your keys to the new apartment and you’re talking about going out of the country. You’d better be positive on the time frame for James & Mia before you book your ticket. Spur of the moment trip – he hasn’t been gone that long – just, send me the details when you know them.

You make a face and talk back to the phone, which makes the taxi driver give you an odd look, “Judge me all you like Todd, I’m going to see him.”

You tap out a few more messages to the corresponding members of the production team and everything seems to work out nicely. Yes, there’s still a number of things that need to happen before a table read is a go. Looks like you’re in the clear for taking four or five days to go to London. You wait, your finger hovering over the link to confirm your plane ticket to fly out later tonight which would put you in London around 3pm their time – Jason has been incredibly busy with filming, is this really a good idea? There is the risk that you will fly there and he won’t have any free time to spend with you. If that is the case then you can tour yourself around London for a few days and try to see him when he is available…. Shit, now you’ve just about doubted your way out of your trip. No. No, you’ve already set in motion the required parts – follow through.

Now to make sure Jason doesn’t suspect anything…

Signed the lease! Keys will be mine on Monday. So excited to have my own place again! Can’t wait to start decorating.

You really are very excited about getting to once again have rooms that more accurately reflect your personality. You are going to eventually work on decorating the new place, just after your surprise trip. Hopefully this is a clever misdirect.

You’ve already talked with the hotel regarding your move so you need to stop back by the reception desk to discuss the possibility of them holding your things until you get back from London. Hell, you really don’t have much that won’t just squish back into your luggage. Though you really don’t need to take fan mail, scripts, and odd assorted collectibles you’ve been given all the way to London. If they need the room back, maybe the hotel will hold the various items in storage for you?

The clerk at the counter seems hesitant at first but after being given the go-ahead from management, extends the date for your departure from the room until after you are back stateside. Everything is working out! Jason responds while you are in the elevator:

Still say you should have just taken over the place I had been renting. Can’t wait to see pictures once you get settled. Wish I could be there to help.

He had tried many-times-over to convince you to talk with the realtors to see if you could lease the place he had been renting. You were stubborn on that point though, you wanted a place that was distinctly yours, not a place that would make you immediately think about how much you missed his presence.

There really isn’t much that you need to do to get ready for your flight. Your travel documents are always in your bag and since you were already preparing to move out of the hotel… After ensuring that you have a few days’ worth of clothes packed – no way are you lugging your entire wardrobe across the Atlantic – you check to make sure Brett is upholding his end of the bargain.

Looks like I’ll be arriving around 3 in the afternoon tomorrow (7ish for you here). I’ll keep you updated during the trip as to progress. Thank you again!!

His response is almost immediate.

Happy to help. Weather willing he will be working but I can recommend things to do until he is done with his day.

The ticket you purchase isn’t for the first flight out, but instead gives you a few hours to get your things together before needing to head to the airport. If you had chosen one of the extremely early flights you probably would have had a better bet of flying out without getting caught by cameras, but that would mess up your arrival time. You don’t want to have to consider an entire day wasted on travel. Maybe your new hair will help prevent you from being recognized? 

Eleven hour flights provide time to catch up on your sleep though so you’re not terribly worried about being exhausted upon arrival. You can’t find your bracelet or your favorite tube of chapstick, but in your excitement you’ve probably just forgotten where you packed them away. You pause to access your appearance in the bathroom mirror before catching a taxi to the airport: you’ve elected to wear clothes a little more comfortable for travel rather than trying to dress to wow Jason. You gather that you’ll have time to change after arriving… Should you wear a hat? Sunglasses? You throw those into your carry on, just in case you decide to try to use them to hide. 

In the airport there are a few people who give you prolonged glances but merely smile back when you make eye contact. Apparently you look just enough like yourself to be merely a good decent look alike. As you are boarding you send both Todd and Brett messages, as requested, to keep them updated. Once the plane takes off you are able to relax a bit though not enough to let you sleep. No matter, you’ll nap a bit eventually. You brought copies of the floor plan to your new place so you can start playing with ideas about the setup of the apartment.

You receive a text from Jason more than halfway through the flight. He had fallen into the routine of leaving you messages to wake up to. 

Good morning beautiful. Can’t remember if you’re working this morning or not. Hope the sunrise you are greeted with is as stunning as mine was.

Your response is true enough though you avoid the query regarding your work schedule. 

I’m awake. Entertaining myself with various ideas on color schemes for the new place. You? Busy day? 

Your response sounds natural enough. You aren’t giving anything away…. Hopefully Brett’s curiosity as to Jason’s schedule for the day doesn’t tip him off. 

The usual fun. I’m here if you need a second opinion. I’ll call later? Maybe another video chat session?

Video chat wouldn’t be needed soon enough. You shift in your seat to stretch a bit.

Later sounds good. Can’t wait

And be able to reach out and touch you… in – ugh, you shouldn’t have looked at the time… You close your eyes and try to relax. Sleep will make the hours seem to go by faster.

Jason's next text wakes you and makes your heart leap:

I have some down time, would now be a good time to call? 

It feels like you just fell asleep but glancing at the time informs you that you’re nearly there. 

Yes. Shit. No. You’re on a plane. How the hell do you disguise the fact that you’re on a plane while on the phone? What if they make an announcement during the call? The surprise would be blown. You’d love to talk to him but …

Er, not the best time. Too much background noise at the moment. Maybe in an hour?

Yes, in an hour when your plane would be landing and you can duck into a quiet room to talk to him.

I don’t mind background noise. You’ll have to listen to Theo, um, "singing", in the background to hear me as well.

Hmmm. How can you word this so that Jason doesn’t think you’re trying to avoid him?

Your hesitation as to how to describe it makes me cautious… I think I’ll pass for now. What is Theo ‘singing’ anyway?

There - keep him talking about his costar. 

But Jason isn’t easily swayed from his goals.

Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon. But if you have a request I’ll pass it along. What if I promise to sing the entire conversation?

And now you have Frank Sinatra singing stuck in your head. Damn. Why don’t the insides of planes look more generic? What if you went into the bathroom? No, then it would just look like you were in the damned bathroom of a plane.

Tempting. But I want to be able to enjoy such an encounter. Let me get someplace quiet, then you can serenade me to your heart’s content. 

You’re teasing him now, but you can’t help but add another few lines of text:

No complaining if I make a thing out of texting you Sinatra lyrics. Already scrolling through my playlists looking for his music.

He responds back:

No complaints. Scout’s honor. Where is Brett? I asked him to help get you someplace quiet. Are you not at work right now?

You grin. He is curious now. You haven’t seen a text arrive from Brett so Lord knows what he was saying to Jason regarding your current whereabouts. 

Haven’t run into Brett. Apparently we aren’t in the same location right now.

Jason's response is slightly delayed which gives you time to plan out what you’ll say if he keeps pushing with questions about where you are. Your planning is pointless though, when you read his message.  

I’ll say! Sorry, but your secret is out. Just checked my feed to pester Brett there. Someone on your plane is fangirling that she is on the same flight. I know you’ll be landing soon. I’ll see you at the airport.

You will not run through Customs. You will not run through Customs. You will not run through Customs.

tag list: @my-soupy-brain @tegan8314 @tortilla-maria1 @nerdgirljen

[sunglassesmish]

lol you're gone for half a day and ppl freak out while i disappeared for like two weeks and no one noticed. i posted about all the things going on and why i wasn't around and no one said a word. nothing negative towards you at all, it's actually really sweet to see ppl react the way to your absence. kinda jealous tbh. but i am sorry that you had to step away. hugs from a random person tumblr! 🤗

listen if this happened with people i knew offline, i’d probably have my parents wondering what happened to me, maybe some of my siblings and that’s only because i live with them. it’s a different world online. i’m jealous of people irl who have a ton of close friends and family, let alone people who would notice if they didn’t respond or were mia for a little while.

and even though people may not message you to ask where you are and if you’re okay, i can guarantee there was someone who noticed you were gone and wondered what happened. i know because it’s happened to me with other people online, where i haven’t seen them and debated sending a message but chickened out.

i know it feels bad, i know it must feel like you don’t matter and that people don’t care. and i’m sorry.

[asaka-lucy-dr-rc]

Happy birthday Asaka! I hope you have a lovely day, and also year, filled with happiness, health, wealth, relief, peace, love and adventures! Whenever you post I'm always so excited, whether it be art, commentary, or lessons and explanations about Japanese! Also, thank you so so much for all your love, kindness, and support for me, and all the other people in the Danganronpa community! Here's a real small thing I made for you, to your request. Hope you like it! Happy birthday!

Going to be gone for a while, so sending this in early, hope that's fine!

Awwwwww I’m over the moon! .｡.:*･’✧(இдஇ )✧'･*:.｡. Thanks a million for your message and gift! This is SO SWEET! 😭💖 When I first read it, I was just excited, but later I was very moved and started to cry. I'm really glad to know that you enjoy my blog, even though I'm just posting the way I like to do it. I am so honored and truly touched that someone as wonderful as you would wish me happiness in my life. 

As I always say, I still have a lot of ideas to draw related to Ultimate Ask Blog, so please let me draw again. (I'm not sure when it will be though, as I can only draw so slowly.)

And thank you Hajime and Makoto for making birthday cakes for me! 🥰💕 It's so cute that Hajime doesn't seem to understand why and for whom he's making the cake. Haha! 😂 I'm sorry I made you make a cake for someone you don't even know. I'm going to enjoy it.😘

Makoto seems to have had a craving for chocolate and couldn't resist! Thank you very much. Let's eat the cake together!

(It's totally fine that you sent the message early! I know that Tumblr doesn't allow you to schedule a time to send asks. I appreciate you taking the time from your busy schedule to send me a birthday message! 🫶💖)

[gripefroot]

Crooked Ways [20/22]

Hiya! It's been a busy few weeks so I haven't gotten around to updating. I'm very sad to be winding down this story. I started it exactly one year ago and the writing process was so fun but also healing to me. I've been surprised and incredibly grateful at how many people have been reading and enjoying it. Thank you for every note and message. I treasure every single one 🫶

Just one night. 

Vegeta scanned the crowds of dancers without much thought, occasionally letting his eyes drift over to tables or the buffet line. No one with a significant power level. None that took a second look at Bulma after coming face-to-face with Vegeta’s best scowl. In fact, a few people that found themselves in their way scuttled like crabs, leaving the space clear in front of them. If Bulma noticed, she didn’t say anything about it, each toss of her head sending more of that delicious scent straight to Vegeta’s nose, making him feel stupid. 

Her usual perfume? Yeah, right, and he was the bastard child of the Supreme Kai. 

“Food first?” Bulma asked, leaning closer to murmur into his ear. Vegeta breathed in deeply, eyelids fluttering madly as he tried to clear his throat and square his stance. 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he intoned, hoping she didn’t hear his voice crack on the final word. 

“I say let’s say hello to the people that’ll complain to Dad if I don’t,” she said with a sigh. He noticed her fingernails digging into his forearm, even through his suit coat. “Then our duty will be done and we can enjoy ourselves the rest of the night.”

“I thought you liked people.” Vegeta let her steer him towards a table, nonetheless. 

“Usually,” Bulma said. “I…don’t like people who treat me like I’m still a little girl. And I don’t like anybody when I just want to be home in bed.”

“In bed with me, I hope.”

She cast him a look, but he saw her lips quiver enough to know she was hiding a giggle. “I don’t think I know how to sleep alone anymore, honestly,” she told him, and he didn’t bother stopping his chest from puffing out. Any Saiyan would be proud to hear such a thing. 

Bulma may not know it, but her words (and smell) made Vegeta’s brain a fuzzy, pleased place to be despite being introduced to a mass of insignificant earthlings. He shook hands and nodded but never smiled. Not that it mattered. Bulma smiled enough for both of them. 

Vegeta wondered if anyone else thought her smile was as perfect as he did. 

If they did, he’d have to kill them.  

He sensed a higher power level and recognized it before the voice reached out to them, before Bulma pulled herself away from laughing with an elderly man to address the interruption behind them. Vegeta’s mind already on killing, he didn’t bother an attempt at polite overtures when they turned to see Yamcha’s stupid smile and wave. 

“Yamcha?” At least Bulma sounded more surprised than happy. 

“Bet you didn’t expect to see me here.” Yamcha wiggled his eyebrows. “How are you doing, Bulma?”

“I’m…fine. Why are you here? How did you get a ticket?”

Vegeta noted that Bulma’s hand on his arm had gone cold. If he weren’t perfectly still to assess this new threat, he might have covered her hand to warm it (better blood flow meant a better chance of surviving a battle. Not for any other reason.)

“Your mom offered me one a while back,” Yamcha said, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “I would’ve come as your date, but after last time…”

Finally the man’s eyes landed on Vegeta. Vegeta saw fear and apprehension, dashed with disgust. He grinned. The memory of decking Yamcha on the Capsule Corp compound lawn was still something he treasured, sometimes relieving the moments at nighttime before falling asleep with a smile on his face. 

“I think,” Yamcha said slowly, brows drawing together. “I think I don’t know what’s been going on at Capsule Corp since I left.” 

“Why should you?” Bulma asked. Her nails dug fibers of fabric into Vegeta’s skin. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep him on edge. “You never call. Except to talk to my mom, apparently.” 

“She called me!” 

“What do you want, moron?” Vegeta barked. “We’re trying to enjoy ourselves.” 

“Sheesh! I only came to say hi.” 

“You said it. Now go.” 

The brisk dismissal seemed to incense Yamcha, whose stance squared against Vegeta as if he were actually a threat. Vegeta laughed. “You don’t get to order me around!” Yamcha said. Then, eyes flicking between the pair of them, he added on, “Aren’t you supposed to be training to beat the Androids, Vegeta? But you’re playing boyfriend?” 

“I’m strong enough to defeat the Androids ten times over,” Vegeta said softly, fists clenching in his pockets. “Naturally you wouldn’t know that level of power.” 

“Stop.” Bulma tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s go eat.” 

“I’m not hungry,” he said without looking in her direction. He only saw Yamcha, a face swimming in the crowd distorted with rage and hate. 

“Oh, are you that powerful, really?” Yamcha sneered. “Are you a Super Saiyan like Goku yet? Or could he still put you in the ground like he did the first time?” 

“Stop!” Bulma said again, this time louder. But now she said it to Yamcha, putting out an arm between them. “Yamcha, you jerk. Go away. If you won’t listen to Vegeta, who can break every bone in your body, listen to me.” 

Yamcha’s expression twitched, gaze dropping from Vegeta’s face to look at Bulma. The drooping, puppyish frown that appeared made Vegeta laugh again, the noise harsh and delighted. 

“Listen to the woman,” Vegeta ordered. “She doesn’t want you here.” 

“I can see that,” Yamcha said bitterly. “If she chooses the enemy over her friends.” 

“Now wait just a minute - ” Bulma’s exploding temper shut off when Vegeta clamped a hand over her mouth. It wasn’t worth it: Yamcha had turned tail the moment he finished his parting shot, disappearing into the crowd. Her fingernails dug into the back of his hand to pull it away from her mouth. “Let me at him, Vegeta! Let me make him pay for what he put me through!” 

She already took a step in the direction Yamcha had gone, and he was forced to pull her back. An unusual amount of aggression, even for Bulma, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. She was pretty when she was furious; all sparking anger and brilliant flashes in her eyes. Her scent riled up, too, and it was all Vegeta could do not to squash his nose against her neck and breathe her in until she was no more. 

Interestingly, he’d forgotten all about Yamcha. 

“Ugh!” Bulma stomped her foot, drawing a few curious stares from around them. The urge to shield her from prying eyes rose in him faster than a tidal wave, and he stomped it down just as quickly. He sufficed the situation by putting his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to face him. 

“Bulma,” Vegeta said. A thrill coursed through his chest when her eyes landed on him; darkened and dangerous and gorgeous. “Now is not the time for a fight. For one thing, these clothes aren’t appropriate for combat.”

“I don’t care!” 

“And what about your father? If you ruin his company’s gala by murdering a guest?” 

Her lips protruded in a pout he was deeply tempted to catch between his teeth and suck until she was swollen and bruised purple. Swallowing, he dragged his eyes up to hers to soak in the beauty of her rage. 

“Fine,” Bulma snapped. “No murder. You’re no fun.” 

“It’s more than he deserves. You’re better than him.” 

Her face began to clear of aggravation. Now she simply looked annoyed, not murderous. 

“When you kill someone,” Vegeta went on, “it should be someone worth more than you so as to prove your power.” 

Bulma blinked several times. He couldn’t think of how what he’d said might be confusing or unclear, so he didn’t clarify. Finally she sighed. “Good to know you haven’t changed that much, Vegeta.” 

“Of course I haven’t changed. Why would I?”

“Never mind.” 

The evening had crested early. Guests remained to be greeted, food to be eaten, and an obligatory dance where everyone could see them that Vegeta thought would make a brilliant torture tactic in the Frieza Force were Frieza still alive. Every second was hell: the music, the steps, the stares, the whispers. 

Worse than that was how much he liked having his hands all over Bulma and her arms wrapped around him. And how bearable her presence made this otherwise torture. 

“Human dances are simplistic,” Vegeta grumbled. Cheeks pressed together, he heard her tinkling laugh right in the shell of his ear. “I’ve seen more backwards planets produce more intricate dances than this!” 

“Oh, honey. This is a social dance, not a professional troupe. I promise there are better dancers out there than the Capsule Corp employees.” 

“Tch.” He squeezed her hand tighter. 

“Don’t tell me you’d rather learn a more complicated dance!” Bulma pulled enough to laugh in his face, which made his cheeks feel hot. 

“No, of course not! I’m only saying it’s not a very impressive set of steps.”

“But it’s easy.” 

Vegeta grunted in agreement. Swaying in circles didn’t require much experience or skill, just a willingness to keep moving and to hold a woman in his arms. His woman. 

“Oh!” Her arm lifted from his shoulder. “My dad is coming to cut in.”

“Cut into what?” 

“The dance, silly. He’ll take your place to dance with me. You can go sit or stand somewhere, I’ll find you after.”

And just like that, Vegeta lost his woman to her father. Glad to leave the dance, loathe to release her. It wasn’t until Bulma flat-out tugged her hand out of his with a reproachful look that he managed, stepping aside for Dr. Briefs. 

“I won’t be long,” Dr. Briefs told him with a smile, already swinging his daughter into a more polished version of the dance. “You can have her back when I’m done.”

Saiyans had killed other Saiyans for less. 

Vegeta stuck his hands in his pockets, expertly missing the other couples dancing nearby to leave the floor uncontested. His stomach rumbled to remind him that that pathetic single plate of food he’d consumed between introductions wasn’t enough to satisfy him. But instead of walking towards the buffet line, which was significantly shorter as the party dragged on, he found a blank space on the wall, outside the dazzling light of the chandelier. Leaning his back against the wall in a semblance of perfect relaxation, he crossed his arms and let his eyes drift closed. 

Let the humans think him a miserable wretch. Rather that than talk to any of them. 

He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong in any places like this on any planet. In fact, when he really dug his mind in to think about it, he couldn’t recall any time that he’d felt true belonging. Even in the field, performing massacres at Frieza’s every order or spending nights with the other soldiers he’d been apart. Memories of his earliest childhood at his father’s palace proved spotty and only produced feelings that jolted between sour arrogance, suffocating loneliness, and the intense need to earn the king’s approval. 

Vegeta had shuttered around the universe too much to call any place his home. Nor had he wanted to, when having a home proved to be such a target for a madman’s destruction. And now that Frieza was gone and Planet Vegeta was gone and Vegeta no longer part of an army: where did that leave him? 

Here. He was here. 

I have no ties to Earth, either, he thought to himself. The lie was acrid, burning beneath his skin as if his very blood howled in protest. So what if it was a lie? No one knew but himself. No one knew the roots growing from the cracks in his feet, from the arteries to his heart. 

Perhaps because Vegeta was so in tune to her tenor of voice, perhaps because her laugh was just that loud - his head jerked up at the sound of Bulma laughing. The music had picked up to a faster pace, her dad twirling her expertly around. 

This was her world. Her place. Her home. She belonged here in a way Vegeta would never, could never belong anywhere, because this had been her home since she was born. If he meant to honor her claim on him, to honor his claim on her - to take her away from this would be a cruelty beyond imagining. And for what? He had nothing and no place. No planet, no home, no people. 

He’d only ever been a smudge, unwillingly allowed across the brightness of her life for an indeterminable and finite amount of time. Time that was running out, and he’d done the stupid thing and all but made her his mate in the Saiyan way. 

For once, pride and blood tore him in different directions. One towards her, one away. Both with equal strength in his body, neither to be ignored. 

When the song ended, Bulma disappeared from the dance floor. Vegeta barely had time to sense her direction before she appeared in front of him with flushed, vibrant cheeks and a smile brighter than any sun in any solar system. 

“Told you I’d find you,” she said breathlessly. “Mom and Dad are going home, they said we can ride with them if we’re ready to leave.” 

“I’m ready,” he said at once. 

“Let’s go, then.” Bulma’s fingers wrapped through his, unraveling his uncompromising stance until he sulked after her bounding steps to the exit. Her exhilarating scent wrapped around him like a shroud, driving away his unhappy thoughts until his blood sang for her, and only her, and when she turned to beam at him, Vegeta grinned back. 

Sharing a car with her parents had been a bad choice.

The backseat had two rows of seats facing each other, meant for socializing. Instead of sitting in the seat beside Bulma, Vegeta was pushed aside to make room for a massive bouquet of flowers someone had gifted Panchy at the party. His nose itched at the scent, cloying and too sweet. Meanwhile the others chatted about who they’d seen and who they hadn’t seen, laughing at dredged up memories and so-and-so or this-and-that. 

Next time, they weren’t sharing a car. 

There won’t be a next time, immediately followed that thought, and he stiffened in his seat. A fist resting on his knee, flaring conflict building in his chest until he was sure he’d choke aloud. 

When the car finally stopped at the front entrance of Capsule Corp, Vegeta was slowest to start moving. By the time he climbed out of the car, squinting in the bright lights that bathed the front steps, Bulma had dashed around the car, holding her skirt in her hand. 

“It’s a full moon,” she said. “Did you see?”

“No.” He started up the steps. Dr. Briefs and Panchy were already heading through the doors inside. 

“Oh.” 

Halfway to the top he realized she hadn’t followed. Turning, Vegeta scowled at her still by the car, hands on her hips. “Don’t tell me you expect to be carried,” he said. “I know you didn’t have a single glass of champagne.” 

“You do get grumpy during full moons!” 

“I do not!” He stomped back down the stairs. Bulma’s teal curls were falling from the elegant hairstyle she’d had earlier, strands gracing the curve of her neck and cheeks so beautifully that Vegeta got even more frustrated. Without a word he bent to hoist her over his shoulder, jogging back up the steps a second time. 

“Why do you always do this?” she screeched. “I’m capable of walking, thank you very much!” 

“Because I’m sick of you taking your sweet time! You’re wasting mine, too, you know!” 

“I can waste whatever I want!” Bulma kicked out a few times, but Vegeta just jostled her until she stopped. Which was wise on her part, because otherwise he would have turned his head to bite her luscious backside. 

The further away from the front entrance, the fewer lights were on. Briefly he considered stopping by the kitchens or the pantry but he dismissed the idea in favor of a better one. They could always eat after they worked out their frustrations with each other behind closed doors. 

And that they did. It was her bedroom tonight, and after Vegeta tripped on two pairs of shoes and a tool belt he nearly howled, dropping Bulma onto her feet to start tugging at her dress with abandon. 

“I hate these clothes,” he panted a few minutes later. Buttons popped off his shirt to litter the ground, but from Bulma’s aggression, not his. He’d torn the straps of her dress from her shoulders until it hung at her waist, exposing her breasts. 

“You hate everything,” she said through gritted teeth. Having trouble taking off his suit coat when his head was buried in her chest. Vegeta didn’t bother correcting her, fondling a breast in one hand while he tried to kick off his shoes. Her scent was sharper and richer next to her skin. He hadn’t imbued any alcohol but he may as well have with how dizzy he felt. “Vegeta! Vegeta, just stop! It’ll be easier if we get undressed first.”

With a snarl he pulled away, wrenching open his trousers to add another button to the confetti on the floor. Bulma shimmied her dress down her hips. He stared, hopping on one foot to get out of his stupid trousers. Stupid clothes, stupid everything - he’d never wear this again. Only clothes that could be easily removed. 

“Ooh!” 

Her cry turned to a satisfied sort of moan after he grabbed her again, lifting her to straddle his hips while he made a clumsy path for the bed. Stepping on buttons and whatever else Bulma left lying around, all poking his feet. He didn’t care. He needed her like a dying man needed water; he needed to taste her and be inside her. Lips met in sloppy haste, Vegeta biting after her when she pulled away for breath, her fingers tight on his shoulders and her eyes opening and closing fast. 

“Why does it feel like this?” Bulma whispered. Cradled by the bed and pinned down by him, she still managed to rock against him, her neck craning. “Why is it different tonight?” 

“Maybe it’s the full moon.” Vegeta hadn’t thought himself capable of joking at a moment like this, but maybe it wasn’t a joke after all. A moment’s thought and he added, “It’s the way you smell. It’s making me…maybe it’s making you feel it, too.” 

“Then it’s going to be a good night.” A dazzling, kiss-swollen smile, and he felt her hand push his head down towards the junction between her legs. “I have a feeling I won't need to stop you tonight. Maybe I have Saiyan stamina now.” 

The words falling from his lips in response to hers weren’t in her language, but she didn’t comment on it. Vegeta’s teeth sank into her thigh, his hand tucked behind her knee to lift her leg so his mouth could reach more skin. He could taste nothing else for the remainder of his existence and it wouldn’t be enough. What was it that had turned her from enjoyable to intoxicating? Where did an addict slip over the line into insanity where he couldn’t control his muscles, couldn’t control his mind? 

Couldn’t control his blood, couldn’t control his pride. 

Here. He was here. 

“Bulma,” he murmured. Kissed the tendons that made her body, licked the skin, kneaded the muscles. She twitched and quivered with every touch, her head lolling on the pillows. Impatient for him to continue, no doubt. If she could hear him, she didn’t say so. Perhaps she was as senseless as him. Despite not having spoken the Saiyan language for years, it was easier to slip into phrases he thought he’d never say, feelings he’d never thought he’d feel, when he knew Bulma couldn’t understand. Couldn’t ask, couldn’t confront. It was just for him. Just for him and no one else. 

“Bulma,” he said again, his tongue swirling around her sex and she keened into the night, legs shaking around his head. “Bulma, you are my queen.” 

[integra1127grimmreaper]

The One That Got Away - Part ten

Negan Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 9

Warning: swearing, smut, cheating

Things between Negan and you were progressing really fast, you woke up each morning to text messages from him for the past week since the night the two of you had gone out for drinks. And each day he would ask when you would be available for that dinner date, eventually you caved in; revealing which day was your off day from work.

Queue today’s text.

“Hey there… we still on for tonight?”

“Hey, not sure if I’m up for going out tonight.”

“You ok?”

“Just had a shitty day at work and want a peaceful night in at home.”

“I understand… tell ya what; why don’t we chill at your house, and I make us dinner?”

Silently staring at Negan’s last text, you debated the suggestion for some time.

Was it really a good idea to have him over to your house?

Just the two of you alone, with no one around to keep you from doing something extremely stupid.

“Hey, earth to Y/N…”

“So, what ya say… you, me, a quiet dinner?”

Realizing that Negan wasn’t going to give up until getting the answer he wanted, you responded.

“OK”

“Awesome, see ya later then.”

Mentally shaking your head at the decision, you had just made, you end the conversation by sending your address.

You were nervously fretting over your appearance in the mirror as you awaited Negan’s arrival.

You must have changed your outfit about five times already.

Finally deciding on a casual yet decent looking house dress.

Relax idiot… it’s only a friendly dinner between two friends, nothing else.

So lost in the internal bantering between yourself, you didn’t notice the time, not until hearing the sound of your doorbell going off.

“Hey there…” you stared wide-eyed at a broad smiling Negan as he entered through door with a grocery bag in hand.

“Hey… hope ya like spaghetti? It’s my specialty, so I’m treating ya to that tonight.”

“Sounds great…” you smile in response.

“Let me show you to the kitchen.”

You silently sat sipping at your glass of wine while Negan busied himself around your kitchen preparing dinner.

“So, how was your day?” Negan asks, his back to you as he stirred the sauce.

“Busy...” you remark with a heavy sigh.

“Had to attend two domestic disturbances, and a public intoxication, the most stressful part of it all was the paperwork though.”

Negan cringes in sympathy, “no wonder you weren’t in the mood for going out.”

“Enough about me arresting people” you change the topic.

“How was your day?”

“Same as usual” Negan shrugs.

“Dealing with and swearing at shithead kids all day.”

“I can’t believe you’re still getting away with doing that…” you snicker.

“Parents are always complaining” he chuckles out.

“Hasn’t stopped me from doing it though.”

“How you still have a job, is beyond me” you chuckle along with him.

“That’s because I’m fuckin’ good at my job… that, and I’m handsome as fuck” he winks at you.

“There’s no denying that…” you softly mumble into your glass.

“So, you think I’m handsome…?” Negan licks his top lip smugly.

“I’ve always found you attractive” you admit, covering it up with a chuckle then.

“Heck, a lot of kids during our high school time thought the same thing…”

“True…” Negan nods.

“But what matters; is that you did.”

“Don’t be silly…” you blush, waving his remark off.

With a serious look on his face, Negan steps closer to you; reaching out a hand to gently touch your cheek.

“I always thought you were beautiful…”

“Please…” you roll your eyes in denial.

“I was far from that, and even further from it now.”

“You’re even sexier now…” Negan groans out, eyes having turned dark with lust.

“You’re delusional” you brush him off.

“No, seriously… I wouldn’t have taken the risk of fucking you back then if I didn’t think so.”

“C’mon… that only counts as half sex” you shrug his comment off.

“Half sex?!” Negan scoffs, dropping his hand disappointedly.

“What are you? A fuckin’ teenager?”

“Neither of us came” you point out to him.

“So, it’s only counted as half…”

“My dick was inside you for quite some time, which means I fucked you. Even though we were interrupted, I fucked you… and it felt incredible.”

You lift your arms up in defeat.

“Ok, you win…”

“We fucked… you fucked me.”

Pulling your chair away from the island, Negan steps in-between your legs, causing your heartrate to rise.

“Does that day still cross your mind…? Do you regret it?”

“Negan…” you murmur as his hand stroked your cheek yet again.

“I don’t...” Negan confesses, hand moving up to tangle in your hair.

“I still remember how incredibly tight you were around me, it’s never left my mind…”

Your eyes fluttered shut as Negan gently massaged your scalp. When you opened them again, his lips were mere inches from your own.

Negan silently stared into your eyes for a moment, seeing that you were into it as well; he slams his lips hard against your own.

Pulling you up to your feet, Negan wraps his arms tightly around your waist as the two of you devoured each other’s mouths.

Your arms wrap around the back of Negan’s neck as his hands lower down, pulling the skirt of your dress upward.

Completely lost in the moment, you gasp out in surprise when Negan suddenly lifts you onto the island.

Recovering quickly; you begin unbuttoning his shirt as the two of you continue kissing, your hands roaming all over each other’s bodies in a passionate frenzy.

The moment is suddenly interrupted though by the sound of the pasta water having boiled over.

“Shit!” Negan rushes to remove it from the stove.

You were seated on top of the island still as you attempted to even your breathing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Negan scolds as you were just about to jump off it.

“I-” you begin to say but Negan interrupts with a shake of his head.

“I’m not done with you…” he growls, hastily stalking back toward you.

He then lifts you up from the island, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Which way is your bedroom?”

Staring at him wide-eyed, you silently point toward it, and he carries you in the direction.

Placing you on the edge of the bed, Negan immediately begins undressing as you silently sat almost trance like admiring his every move.

You were snapped out your trance, when a boxer clad Negan roughly grabs hold of your hair; tipping down to capture your lips in a hard kiss.

You softly moaned out as Negan and your tongue battle for dominance, pulling away for air; Negan reaches down to pull your dress over your head.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ beautiful…” he groans out, groping at your breast as your head tilts back in pleasure.

Wanting to have some power control over him yourself, you reach out to stroke his cock through his boxers.

“You’re killing me here, Sweetheart…”

Negan lets out a grunt of pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as his head tilts to the back.

With a victorious smirk, you finally stop torturing him, slipping your hand into the waistband of his boxers, and gently pulling out his straining erection.

Negan watched through hooded lids as you lightly licked at the tip, looking up at him; you gently swirl your tongue around it, dipping the tip of it into the slit of his cock.

“Fuuuuck…” Negan hisses out, gripping tight hold your head as you opened your mouth to fully take him in.

Gurgling noises filled the room as you hollowed your cheeks as best you could while Negan fucked the shit out of your mouth.

After a few minutes, Negan pulls away from you with a loud groan.

“Don’t want to cum yet, not until I’ve had that pussy wrapped around my dick again…”

“Then take it…” you slur out, eyes fully lust blown.

With a deep growl, Negan pushes you back onto the bed, reaching for your panties, hastily removing them.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked…” Negan groans out in approval as he goes to bury his face in-between your legs.

A loud cry escapes your lips when his mouth latches onto your centre, your fingers instinctively burying in his hair.

“Fuck, Negan…” you tug at his hair, pulling him up your body.

“I can’t wait anymore…”

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart…?” Negan whispers against your lips, fingers circling over your clit.

“I-need-you…” you slur, eyes rolling into the back of your head in pleasure.

Grabbing hold of his erection, Negan strokes it between your soaking folds.

“What is it you need from me, Baby…?”

“Please-fuck-me…” you whimper out desperately.

Placing the tip of his cock against your entrance, Negan smirks down at you.

“Anytime baby…”

With one powerful snap of his hips, Negan buries himself till the hilt inside you; causing you both to groan out as you spasm around him.

“Fuck...” Negan buries his face into the side of your neck with a groan.

“You still feel so fuckin’ tight…”

Your only response was a soft whimper; your mind void of any and all thought, except for the pleasurable stinging sensation of him stretching your walls.

Negan’s hips slowly begin to rock into you, causing your back to arch off from the bed with each deep thrust of his cock into you.

Once you’ve adjusted, Negan’s hips begin picking up pace. The sounds of skin loudly slapping against each other, along with your whimpers and Negan’s grunts echo throughout the room as you tightly clung to him for dear life.

“Negan…” you cry out, feeling your orgasm fast approaching.

“I know baby, I’m almost there too…” Negan moans out, anchoring his arms under your shoulders for better grip.

After a few more hard thrusts from Negan, you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“I’m cumming…” you cried out, walls clenching tightly around him, triggering him to cum as well.

“Fuuuuck…” Negan groaned out in your neck as he emptied himself deep inside you.

After finally having caught your breaths, Negan rolls off you with a satisfied grunt; pulling you against his side and places a kiss into your hair.

“And that my dear, is a job completed…” he utters out breathlessly.

You couldn’t stop the snicker that slipped your lips at his reference to the ‘half sex’ comment you had made earlier.

It wasn’t long after that, when your eyes began fluttering close as satisfied exhaustion finally took over your body.

Part 11

Tags: @neganswoman @especially @thecupcakevigilante ​ @nt-multi-fandom ​  @tonysterco ​ @stoneyggirl2​

[glisten-inthedark]

I don’t fully know all the birthdaygate lore but I had this idea earlier where I wonder if, if birthdaygate is valid, if part of birthdaygate is actually also lettergate. If the theory that Vecna somehow made people forget about Will’s birthday is real then maybe he also messed with Will receiving Mike’s and his friends’ letters or with Mike sending them

Idk how much I support birthdaygate (particularly I’m not the biggest fan of it being caused by Vecna) but I refuse to believe putting March 22 as the date on the camcorder at Rink o Mania was an accident because so many eyes would have seen that shot before editing and someone would’ve gone “hm that date sounds familiar why is that”

Plus the Duffers have always been extremely intentional with the dates in each season so choosing this week in March would have been a BIG discussion and involved plotting and working out a timeline and I just cannot believe no one went “oh so this takes place over Will’s birthday”

Hi!

Sorry for the long wait to answer your ask but I finally got to it lmao.

Ok, it does actually make sense from what I can gather that Vecna might possibly be messing up with the message delivery between Will and Mike.

Let's assume Vecna wants Will for a reason, he'll want to isolate him from everyone that he cares about, especially and particularly Mike.

I fully believe Vecna has been watching Mike for a while now (what, with the whole electricity surge he's been experiencing since the first episode) and some shots around Mike have been really ominous for a while now.

We know Vecna targets his victims and watches them, so if he wants Will for a reason, he'd definitely use Mike to his advantage because he knows what Mike means to Will, but more than that, he knows what Will means to Mike.

As for Will's birthday, tbh I had a feeling it'd be important since season 2 without having watched season 1. There's just something about how Joyce asked in that moment that had me suspicious from the get go, so yeah, I don't buy this BS that a whole ass crew of writers and editors forgot about, no way.

And I also don't buy that camcorder means absolutely nothing. Hell no.

I wonder if it wasn't caused by Vecna, what could possibly have caused it?

But what I do truly think is that they didn't forget shit and it surprises me how much of the GA seems to think that's the case.

[deedee-the-first]

Sick and in love

After her usual patrol with Chatnoir, Ladybug was swinging across the roofs of Paris when she reached her balcony, she detransformed, tired, she hit her ankle hard and fell to the floor. She tried to stand back up but couldn't she resolved to just sit on the floor.

. "Atchoo", Marinette sneezed.

After Marinette fed Tikki,.

"Marinette are you ok", Tikki asked. "yeah just a little atchhoo cold"."Marinette its freezing out here let go in". Tikki asked, trying to find warmth.

"I would if I could. I can't feel my ankle. It hurts really bad". "You have to get into bed or try and limp to your bed while I get your pyjamas".

After she had changed into cute bunny pyjamas, she climbed into bed. "Goodnight, Tikki, what would I do without you?", Marinette said.

Tikki cooed and said " Goodnight Marinette". "Atchoo".Marinette sneezed again. And fell asleep.

The next morning, Marinette couldn't get out of bed,. "Mommy" she yelled. She only called her mother 'mommy' when she was sick. Sabine was surprised, ran upstairs to check on Marinette.

"Marinette you look awful. Let me check your temperature" She rushed for the thermometer and ran back. She checked her temperature

"oh my God you have a high fever", Sabine said. "Mom *atchoo* don't even think about it *sniffs*you've planned this trip for months and*atchoo* it is not a pleasure trip. You have to get that award because you deserve it*atchoo* and I would be the worst daughter *atchoo* to keep you here" Marinette was stopped as her mother gave her a box of tissues.

"we will go on this trip but we will call you every hour to check up on you and I will call Mr. Damocles and tell him you are not going to school today and I'll make soup for you" Sabine answered.

Meanwhile, at school, Mr. Damocles enters Marinette's class. Everyone says "Good morning Mr. Damocles" Alya whispers to Nino, "Marinette's gonna be big trouble " "I know that dudette is super late", Niño answers. Mr. Damocles says,

"Good morning class, Unfortunately Marinette is sick and cannot come to school "

Adrien's thoughts " What? Why? When? I have to go to pay her a visit after class. That is"

That news made everyone sad.

Everyone was just waiting for class to be over so they could each send her messages.

Back at Marinette's she was really sick. She had slept all morning, but she wasn't feeling any better. By this time, her mom and dad had already gone on their trip and called 3 times before.

" Tikki my head hurts, my nose is running, I keep sneezing *atchoo*, and I'm hotter than the sun. What should I do?", Marinette said

"Well you go to those things called doctors", Tikki said.

"Out of the question, Tikki and they are people, not things", Marinette said with a little fear in her eyes.

" I know you better than anyone. The only thing you are afraid of is talking to Adrien, so why do you have fear in your eyes"?

"First I was nervous and not afraid and second, my heart belongs to my boyfriend now, so I'm no longer nervous when talking to him and third, I'm not afraid of anything", she said with a face that was like I'm not hiding anything, stop trying to find out.

"I want an explanation. Why don't you want to go to the doctors"? Tikki asked, disappointed that Marinette had hidden something from her

" firstofallIcantwalkandsecondifIgohemightsayIneedashotandI'mafraidofshots- so good to get that off my chest"

" Marinette, you know when you talk like that i can't understand you. Please say that again", Tikki said.

" first of all, I can't walk and second, if I go, he might say I need a shot and I'm afraid of shots". Please don't laugh", Marinette repeated.

" What are shots?" Tikki asked. " They are needles that contain medicine that they put in a sick person's body", Marinette said, "Why would they do that, isn't that painful? I would be scared if I were you, don't worry, I won't force you to go".

Back at school, every 2 seconds, Adrien checked his watch. He wished school would finish now and wondered how the princess was. The bell rung and he was about to fly out the door when Alya said,

" Everyone Marinette called and said she's contagious, so I thought that we should send her video messages ok"

Immediately after everyone had sent the messages, Adrien went home.

"Didn't you hear that she's contagious", Plagg said. "I don't care, I need to see my princess" Adrien. "Claws out" He ran over the roof tops until he reached Marinette's balcony. He ran through her window and saw her in her bed. He transformed.

" What happened to you? I heard you were sick. Why don't you ever take care of your self". Adrien said

"You and I both know *atchoo* I take care of myself. Kitty is just a *atchoo* little cold", Marinette replied,

" If it is just a little cold, why is your face so red? It is obvious that you have a fever. If it is the flu, I have to take you to the hospital".

"My doctor came over*atchooooo* already I'm ok Adrien really" she lied. She didn't want to tell him she didn't want a shot.

"You know very well that I can tell when you are lying to get up and go have a bath. You are coming to the hospital with me whether you like or not. Now stop being lazy", Adrien demanded.

Marinette thought 'why does he have to know me so well'. " *atchoo* I'm contagious and it is better you leave, I don't want you getting sick *atchoo*" Marinette said.

"Enough of that nonsense. I'm not leaving, get ready. I'm taking you to the hospital, " Adrien said, not having it anymore.

"Well I injured my ankle after a patrol last night", Mari replied

" let me see gosh it is really bad". It is blue. Your ankle might be broken Mari. We have to get you to the hospital". Adrien said.

He goes in and out of the bathroom, setting it up for her to bathe comfortably.

" I'll carry you to the bathroom. There is a chair in there and you can use that. Then I'll pick out your outfit". She just didn't want to go to the hospital. Now, going for two things. Could this day get any worse?

She pondered these facts, and she said " I done" he passed her a towel and a grey sweat pants with a white sleeveless shirt with a gray jacket. She wore it and she limped out of the bathroom.

Adrien rushed and carried her and looked at her disapprovingly, " Why didn't you call me to carry you out? I don't want you to stress your ankle while you hurt".

Adrien said he was not able to stay angry with his princess.

He braided her hair and took her to the hospital in a cab.

Marinette was completely against this idea. When they reach a hospital, "Please Adrien I don't want to be here. Don Don't make me please *atchooo*" Marinette whined.

" I'm sorry Princess but i cannot allow you to stay in pain", Adrien replied.

"I can handle the pain or Tikki can cure it. Please don't make me go in there", Mari said.

"Mari please, " Adrien persisted and carried her in.

In the waiting room after Adrien signed up.

She looked at Mari. She was really upset. Then, her name was called.

They went into the doctor's office. Immediately, she saw who it was. She was terrified, which was her childhood doctor.

"Ah Marinette, what's wrong with you don't look too good?", Dr. Elena. Scared to death, Marinette managed to say, "I'm sick*atchoo*".

Dr. Elena giggled and said, " I can see that you are still afraid of doctors".

Marinette thoughts *breathe in breathe out* she speaks a little bit less scared" No I'm not and Well I have a fever, I can't stop sneezing *atchoo*, my nose is stuffy and I 'm pretty sure I have the flu". Adrien said, "It wasn't that hard was it?" "shut it" she snapped, angry that he brought her there to start with. "Ok so according to your symptoms, you might have the flu, so I'll give you a check up and then if you do flu shots" Dr. Elena said.

"What" Marinette exclaimed, limping for the door, but was stopped by Adrien. She pushed past him and bolted for the door.

Adrien ran after, Mari suppressed the pain in her ankle, trying to get away as fast as she could, but Adrien was right behind her. She reached the parking lot and hid behind a car. She slowed her breathing with the adrenaline rush gone her ankle was throbbing, which hurt so much. Adrien passed by where she was hiding and his sharp ears heard her breathing.

He quietly made his way to her and held her still. Mari started thrashing around, begging, screaming, crying for him to let her go. Then he hugged her, and took her inside while cradling her. Once they were back in Dr. Elena's office.

"Mari what's wrong." He said he was really worried. Right then she felt the urge to puke. She looked at Dr. Elena, who pointed to the bathroom door. She limped in and after she had finished, and she said to tikki "what am I going to do? Adrien is going to make me take the shot. What should I do"?

Adrien was waiting for her outside. "Marinette are you okay in there? I'm coming in" Marinette said "no don't I'm coming out" she said to Tikki, wish me luck.

"Marinette your ladybug you can do anything".

" Ok I don't want to make a fool of myself".

She goes out and sees a worried look on Adrien's face when she said, "Its not about me having to take a shot or more. What hurts me is that I didn't want to come here, but you still made me. I knew this would happen. I just knew it". Adrien started to chuckle then he was now laughing hysterically.

Marinette was now furious, "what's funny fact, forget it. I'm gonna go get my shots", she said, turning away. He held her arm.

"Wait for all this because you were afraid of a shot, why didn't you tell me " he laughed again.

"What kind of boyfriend are you? Instead of comforting me, you laughing and making me go through my fear" she said, really frustrated, and caving in.

" You know I'm the best boyfriend ever because I would rather see you get a shot than suffer from the flu *atchoo* oh no it's like I'm catching the *atchoo* flu. " He said/sneezed. "Haha now I am not the only one getting a shot today", Marinette countered.

The finally settled down, in front of Dr. Elena. Dr. Elena asked them many questions. When she came to this question, she looked at Marinette

"Why were you limping? ". Chat decided to answer her " Well, Marinette told me she hit her ankle on her balcony earlier"

Dr. Elena let me take a look.

She was about to lift Marinette's ankle. She touched it and Marinette shrieked "Ow please don't" "But i have to take a look" Dr. Elena told her. Chat held her hand, she took a deep breathe and said, " Please be gentle".

Dr. Elena lifted Marinette's leg gently and said, "oh dear, it seems to be broken"

"It didn't look like that at her house. She *atchoo* probably stressed it when she ran off, Doc watcha*atchoo* gonna do about it", Chat said, trying to lighten the mood which obviously did not work.

Dr. Elena looked at the Adrien worriedly and said, " Can we speak outside" "Yes *atchoo* doc".

When they were outside, "So you *atchoo* say her ankle is broken*atchoo* and shifted", Adrien said.

"Yes so i have to rearrange it like shifting it to the proper position. It seems that you are catching the flu too". Dr. Elena said,.

"In that * atchhooo* case, you have to do it while she's not aware”, Adrien said

Dr. Elena said'', I have noticed that she is very uncomfortable here ''

*phone ring*

Alya :Hi Adrien

Adrien : alya I'm at the hospital right now

Alya :ok

Adrien :Actually I brought Marinette here. She was really sick".

Alya: Did you say Marinette because she hates going to the doctors? She must be scared to death I'm coming.

Adrien : Yh because it is only you that can handle her

Alya: Bye

"So while you were on the phone, I prepared Marinette for the procedure but she's still on edge"

Dr. Elena said, " you and Marinette are both going to receive flu shots when her friend gets here"

Alya arrived, and Mari thought I could still make a run for it.

Alya looked at her and said in a no-nonsense voice, " Don't even think about it. "

Adrien was frustrated, "Mari stop *atchoo* acting like a child and get ready for your *atchoo* shot".

"No you are going first'', Mari said, trying to stall.

"Ok fine princess*atchoo* if i get mine you promise *atchoo* you'll get yours" he said so calmly but on the inside he was panicking, but then he said in his mind "I'm doing this for my princess".

" I can't promise you anything", Marinette scoffed. He did as he was told and he got himself ready and sat down. He rolled up his sleeve.

Immediately, the needle impacted his skin, he whimpered, which made Marinette really scared and everyone could see that. She closed her eyes, too afraid to open them.

Adrien touched her hand and she opened her eyes with tears and said " I can't do this" she stood up forgetting about her ankle and fell into his arms. They gazed into each other's eyes passionately.

"Marinette you are stronger than you think", Adrien said, putting her back in the bed. Dr. Elena, tired of all this drama, said "Marinette I never knew you to be such a drama queen. Just because of this little shot, you're almost hyperventilating. Gosh kids" she said, holding up her syringe that was ready for her 15 minutes ago and is 2 times bigger than Chat.

Marinette, more terrified than before, Adrien said, "Why is it bigger than what I took"?

"Well yours was just a vaccine. Hers is a cure, please shift aside I have things to do", Dr. Elena said, fed up with this rubbish. "Marinette please just do what she says, "Alya said

He said, " Marinette, please take off your jacket", Adrien said, giving her a sympathetic look.

She took off her jacket and accepted her fate. Closing her eyes, she held Adrien's hand.

She felt sharp pain, as the needle entered her arm. She covered her hand with her mouth and, for fear of screaming, a tear ran down her which Adrien immediately wiped away.

"Not that bad was it? " Adrien asked Marinette when she was done with the shot. " What are you talking about? It was worse than I thought-" and she fell asleep.

" I loved my princess but she was really a pain in the neck today", Adrien said.

"So you finally gave her anesthetic, please go over and give her the flu shot and straighten her ankle. Today has been a long day", Adrien said, disappointed that this was the only way to.

"I never knew Marinette could be so dramatic, " Adrien said

"This time she got a shot in and even saw a doctor. She couldn't have handled it in a normal case. I think she's very brave even I stalled when I've got to take a shot and Marinette just stalled her shot from the afternoon to the evening", Alya said, defending her best friend.

The next morning, Marinette woke and saw Adrien beside her, she jokingly pushed him off her bed and sat up.

After an 'oh so hard' push, Adrien woke up with shock on his face. Marinette recalled the events of yesterday.

"Mari I can explain ok, Mari reason I can't just leave you in this condition", Adrien said, trying to pacify Mari.

Marinette looked down and saw her ankle in a cast "Spill what happened yesterday.

Adrien jumped, "Well instead of a flu shot, Dr. Elena gave you an anesthetic because she also needed to straighten out your ankle without you in pain or scream" he gave her an apologetic smile.

She stood up to check her ankle on the ground but was stopped by Adrien. "How am I going to get around if I can't even stand"? She said.

"Alya thought ahead and brought you this", Adrien said, holding bluebell crutches that matched her eyes.

"Thank you", Marinette said. "for everything”.

He leaned in, and Mari mimicked him until their lips met in the middle. Then Marinette giggled'

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Sitter

Mycroft Holmes x Bethany Wheeler (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 6 - Using Again

The next morning was not what Mycroft had hoped it would be. He’d woken up early to go through his usual routine on the treadmill, receiving a text from Bethany while he showered.

I had a wonderful time last night, Mycroft. Please don’t feel the need to dwell on what you think should or shouldn’t have happened. There’s no rush or pressure for anything. Dinner was more than enough for me. Have a good day. – BW

Mycroft was about to send a message back when John began ringing.

‘Dr Watson, how can I help you this morning?’ Mycroft tried to sound as normal as possible.

‘Hi, Mycroft. It’s Sherlock, I just picked him up from a smack den and I’m taking him to Barts for a drugs test. I just thought I’d let you know.’

Mycroft felt his body run cold. ‘I see.’

‘Yeah, I mean, it doesn’t look good, but I knew you’d want to be informed.’

‘Thank you, John. I’ll be in touch.’ Mycroft couldn’t explain his anger and disappointment, why had he not been keeping a closer eye on Sherlock? What could possibly have taken his attention so far away from his brother? Oh, yes…

I will be dropping by Baker Street soon. Sherlock again. – MH

He sent the message to Bethany, knowing she would be able to sense his anger, but he didn’t receive a reply, assuming she must have already started working. Mycroft had a very good feeling that Sherlock would have a stash hidden somewhere in his flat and this was perhaps a chance for him to do something a little childish in response.

Mycroft made the phone call to Sherlock’s little fan club and told them to meet him outside Sherlock’s flat. He eventually told them to get to work and look for anything substance related, he then had the very difficult task of phoning his parents.

He stepped outside for a moment, holding the bridge of his nose and preparing himself for the difficult phone call.

‘Mycroft?’ That voice was the only one that could make him feel any better about anything. He turned to see Bethany in her work uniform, well, in her black polo shirt and black trousers. ‘What are you doing here?’ Clearly, she hadn’t received his message.

‘Sherlock.’ He said, gravely. ‘He often suffers from substance abuse and John called me to say he’s using again.’

‘Jesus.’ Bethany folded her arms, trying to make sense of it. ‘I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? It’s not busy or anything, if you need help?’

‘It’s quite alright, there are people searching his flat just now,’ Mycroft explained, liking the fact that she cared enough to offer to help him. ‘If there’s anything else he’s hiding, we’ll find it.’

‘Wait, who’s in his flat?’ Bethany asked, but didn’t wait for an answer, instead she bolted up the stairs and out of sight.

Mycroft sighed, the phone call would have to wait. He went inside, sat on the stairs and thought on all the ways he could have help Sherlock if only he’d been paying attention. He heard footsteps coming back down the stairs, unmistakably belonging to Bethany.

‘They haven’t found anything yet,’ she said, descending past him and leaning against the wall. ‘But they’re being weirdly thorough, so if there’s anything there, it’ll be found. Are you alright?’

‘Fine.’ Mycroft nodded, but it only awarded him a slight tilt of her head. ‘I wasn’t keeping an eye on him. I was distracted.’

‘Distracted?’ Bethany frowned, before realising what he meant.

‘If we continue and I find myself in this position again-‘

‘Mycroft, Sherlock is your brother,’ she half laughed. ‘You seriously think you have a right to feel bad for choosing to help him over me? If you didn’t choose him, I’d think you were insane.’ Mycroft didn’t anticipate that response from her and it made her chuckle. ‘Look, I’m nothing special, I’m just Mary’s friend and you shouldn’t even be giving me a second glance, let alone anything else. Family comes first, it should always come first.’

Mycroft took a breath and wondered whether he should have gone on. ‘Even at the expense of my own happiness?’

Bethany’s whole face changed, surprised maybe that he’d asked such a question, or perhaps that he’d even been so happy at all, he couldn’t tell. He never found out, because the sounds of a taxi pulling up and Sherlock and John could be heard shouting outside.

‘…he always corrects it, he’s OCD, doesn’t even know he’s doing it.’ Sherlock yelled as he walked through the door.

‘Well then Sherlock, back on the sauce?’ Mycroft felt an instant irritation at his interruption, he wanted Bethany to give him some kind of strength to have patience, but she remained quiet.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I phoned him.’ John cut in.

‘The siren call of old habits.’ Mycroft went on. ‘How very like Uncle Rudy, though in many ways, cross-dressing would’ve been a wiser path for you.’

‘You phoned him?’ Sherlock directed his question to John.

‘Course, I bloody phoned him.��

‘Course he bloody did!’ Mycroft had had enough, he was in no mood. ‘Now, save me a little time, where should we be looking?’

‘Why is she here then?’ Sherlock pointed to Bethany. His eyes darting between her and Mycroft.

‘I’m working this morning,’ she sighed. ‘Mycroft arrived and told me what happened. Why didn’t you phone anyone?’

‘Wait, did you say ‘we’?’ Sherlock’s attention thankfully turned back to Mycroft.

‘Mr Holmes.’ A voice called from upstairs.

‘For God’s sake!’ Sherlock yelled, pushing past Mycroft and striding up the stairs.

Mycroft slowly got up to follow, listening to John again question why Bethany was there.

‘Told you, Mycroft was outside,’ she explained again, she was a good liar, good enough for John, but thankfully not good enough for him. ‘He looked stressed, I joked about it and he told me what happened.’

John seemed somewhat convinced and Mycroft felt it was a bullet dodged… for now. He entered into the flat, maintaining his calmer demeanour, spotting the closed bedroom door immediately, but open to giving Sherlock every opportunity to own up.

‘Some members of your little fan club, to be polite.’ Mycroft glided in. John and Bethany following in afterwards, thankfully the latter stood closer to John so as not to arouse suspicion, though Sherlock was rarely fooled by such displays. ‘They’re entirely trustworthy. Even willing to search through the toxic waste dump you are pleased to call a flat. You’re a celebrity these days Sherlock, you can’t afford a drug habit.’

‘I do not have a drug habit.’ Sherlock said, like the moody teenager he often was.

‘Hey, what happened to my chair?’ John cut in. Mycroft looked to Bethany to give him a little more patience, but she was just watching Sherlock.

‘It was blocking my view to the kitchen.’

‘Well, it’s good to be missed.’

‘You were gone, I saw an opportunity.’

‘No, you saw the kitchen.’

‘What have you found so far? Clearly nothing.’ Mycroft turned his attention to the reason his morning had been disrupted. The bedroom door still sticking out like a sore thumb.

‘There’s nothing to find!’ Sherlock yelled and finally Mycroft had had enough.

‘Your bedroom door is shut,’ he began, walking slowly towards the door at the end of the corridor. ‘You haven’t been home all night. So, why would a man who has never knowingly closed the door without the direct orders of his mother bother to do so on this occasion?’

Mycroft’s hand was on the door handle when Sherlock jumped up. ‘Okay, stop! Just stop! Point made.’

‘Jesus, Sherlock.’ Bethany said, quietly. Mycroft turned on his heel, not quite being able to bear seeing what was actually beyond the door.

‘I’ll have to phone our parents of course, in Oklahoma,’ Mycroft arrived back in the living room and was somewhat aware that Bethany’s eyes were on him. ‘Won’t be the first time your substance abuse has wreaked havoc with their line dancing.’

Sherlock, having had enough as well, stood up to Mycroft. ‘This is not what you think, this is for a case.’

‘What case could possibly justify this?’ Mycroft wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t buying his excuses.

‘Magnusson.’ Sherlock shot back. Mycroft froze, suddenly realising what his little brother was really doing. ‘Charles Augustus Magnusson.’

Mycroft took a deep calming breath and turned around addressing the two fan club members in Sherlock’s kitchen.

‘That name you think you may have just heard,’ he started, calming and slowly so he was understood perfectly. ‘You were mistaken. If you ever mention hearing that name in this room, in this context, I guarantee you on behalf of the British Security Services that materials will be found on your computer hard drives resulting in your immediate incarceration. Don’t reply, just look frightened and scuttle.’ They did as they were told and almost ran out of the flat. Mycroft turned back to Sherlock and John, Bethany still standing to one side. ‘I hope I won’t have to threaten you as well.’ He purposely directed his words to John and not her.

‘Well, I think we’d both find that embarrassing.’ John said, making Sherlock giggle like a child.

‘If it’s all the same to you, Miss Wheeler,’ he couldn’t stand to look at her while he spoke. ‘I would ask that you return to work or at least make yourself scarce.’ It took her a moment, but eventually she sighed and left the flat. All three of them waited a moment before continuing.

‘Now that was interesting.’ Sherlock stood closer to Mycroft, trying to intimidate him. ‘You threatened everyone else, even considered doing the same to John, but not to a woman you barely know-‘

‘Sherlock.’ Mycroft wouldn’t let his drug addled mind get to him like this.

‘Unless of course, you know her better than you’re letting on-‘

‘Listen to me.’

‘What were you doing last night, Mycroft?’ Sherlock laid down the challenge, but Mycroft wasn’t going to rise to it, not now, not ever.

‘Magnusson is not your business.’ He warned, lowly.

‘Oh, you mean he’s yours?’

‘You may consider him under my protection.’

‘I consider you under his thumb.’

‘If you go against Magnusson, you will find yourself going against me.’

‘Okay, I’ll let you know if I notice.’ Sherlock wandered around him to the door, but it was doing nothing for Mycroft’s anger. ‘What was I going to say? Oh yes, bye-bye.’

Mycroft went to leave. ‘Unwise. Brother mine.’

Sherlock instantly pinned him to the doorframe and held his wrist in a very painful position. ‘Brother mine,’ Sherlock growled. ‘Do not appal me when I’m high.’

John had somehow cooled the situation and Mycroft was furious as he descended the stairs. Bethany was outside, cleaning one of the tables, but obviously waiting for him to tell her what was going on.

‘Mycroft, what’s going on?’ She demanded. ‘Is Sherlock alright? What happened to your arm?’

Mycroft took a breath and decided to make a decision that would most likely destroy every chance he had with her in the future, but if it protected her and Sherlock, then it was worth it. He stepped up to her slowly.

‘I’m sorry, but we can no longer associate with each other,’ he said, again without looking at her. ‘Last night was a mistake, I shouldn’t have been so careless. I apologise Miss Wheeler, but from now on, it would be wise for you to remain at a distance.’

Bethany looked heartbroken for a moment, like she was about to burst into tears, but suddenly she nodded and gave a very fake smile.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Fine. Whatever you want, Mycroft. Whatever you think is best for you.’

She didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, instead she headed upstairs to see if Sherlock was okay. He couldn’t blame her for her actions, but he hoped that once the Magnusson business was over, she could find a little room for him again.

Mycroft went back to his office and thought long and hard about what he’d done and what he was going to do next.

‘Mycroft.’ That voice deflated him physically, making Anthea give him a strange look. He turned around in the corridor close to Lady Smallwood’s office and barely made any effort to hide his annoyance.

‘Yes, Lady Smallwood, what can I do for you?’ Mycroft drawled.

‘You’ve only just arrived.’

‘Very observant.’ He said, sarcastically.

‘Something important keeping you this morning.’ It wasn’t a question or a statement and Mycroft had half a mind to tear into her.

‘A private matter, yes.’ He was giving her as much warning as he could without acting irrationally.

‘A private matter? Interesting,’ Lady Smallwood nodded. ‘I noticed in your diary your dinner last night was noted as a business dinner. Care to explain?’

‘What are you talking about?’ Mycroft frowned, Anthea looked a little sheepish, but he’d told her to record it as such.

‘Miss Wheeler said she was a friend, and yet, you recorded your meeting with her as a business meeting and turn up several hours late for work, forgive one for thinking the worst.’ She gave a disingenuous chuckle and Mycroft was just about ready to snap.

He cleared his throat, keeping his voice low to help control his temper. ‘Miss Wheeler is a good friend of mine who specialises in Chemistry, she elected not to come to my office due to her busy work schedule and therefore a business dinner seemed a more appropriate setting. As for my late arrival, you’re aware of how erratic my brother’s behaviour can be, it doesn’t always coincide with the most convenient of time periods, but in this case, it was a good thing that I checked up on him as he expressed interest in Magnusson.’ He caught the unmistakable look of guilt tracing over Lady Smallwood’s expression. ‘I don’t suppose you know anything about that, do you?’

‘Why would I?’ She defended, rather poorly.

‘I wouldn’t ask if I thought you knew nothing.’ Mycroft warned. ‘Good morning, Lady Smallwood.’ He nodded as politely as he could before turning on his heel and striding towards his office.

Mycroft sat down behind his desk and held the bridge of his nose while Anthea went through everything he’d missed and what he had coming up that day. It would be a long one to say the least.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

[backtothestart02]

Wherever You Are, There I Am - 3/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: The last of my promised Christmas fic updates is here. Enjoy!

...

Chapter 3 -

After the second night in a row of nightmares plaguing her, a mixture of memory and fantasy, Iris made probably the bravest decision she could’ve in a while, and called up the therapist she hadn’t seen in 10 years.

She was booked for months, as probably should’ve been expected, and for the briefest of moments Iris wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to throw away CSI Allen’s phone number.

She could easily get a message to him if she called the station, but she didn’t want gossip to spread, and it most assuredly would if the message implied a getting together of any nature. Perplexed as what to do, especially since she didn’t have any friends she could recall, having become a workaholic several years prior up until the present and foreseeable future, Iris saw only one name fall into place before her eyes.

Wally.

Sighing deeply, she scrolled through the contacts on her phone until she landed on his name.

She’d been sixteen when their parents were killed in an accident, and she’d practically raised him by herself when they were shuffled into an extended relatives’ home the same evening, being minors and all. They were close because of it, or had been until she’d buried herself in her work as soon as she became a detective.

Wally was okay. He worked in an auto shop and was dating a girl he planned on marrying. Life was working out well for him. At least it had been three years ago when she’d last heard from him.

She pressed his name and waited for him to pick up.

After three rings, she almost hung up herself, assuming he was either busy or didn’t hear from him, but just as her thumb hovered over the red phone symbol…

“Hello?”

She was silent, in disbelief. He’d actually picked up.

Now what?

“Hello?” he asked again. “Iris?”

He still had her in his contacts.

“H-h-hi,” she stammered, forcing a hesitant smile on her face.

“Hi,” he said, but he didn’t sound happy. “What do you want?”

She slumped over in her chair, twisting her feet around the wooden legs of it.

“To talk,” she said, a slight irritation she knew she had no right feeling creeping up in her. “Isn’t that why people call each other?”

Silence, then, “After three years?”

She swallowed. She really had abandoned every little thing that meant anything to her, hadn’t she?

“I’ve started having the nightmares again,” she admitted softly, hoping that would persuade him. She’d never told him about the nightmares. Ever. But he’d walked in on her screaming from them a time or two as a teen, so she knew he knew about them…once.

“So, see a therapist,” he barked back.

She sighed, aggravated now.

“I tried. She’s booked for months.”

“So, what? You want me to play therapist to solve your problems? After you didn’t so much as send me a Christmas card in three years?”

She winced.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry too. Sorry you weren’t here when my girlfriend rejected my proposal or I lost my job. Or when I got evicted from my apartment and had to move back in with Uncle Tim and Aunt Gina, who passed away last fall, or didn’t you know about that either?”

Her jaw dropped, stunned.

“Nobody told me,” she said, and he had to hear how shocked she was. There were no pretenses now. Her aunt was gone?

“Well, I know people tried. Maybe you didn’t pick up because you didn’t want to be bothered by anyone that wasn’t related to your work. You wanted to pretend we didn’t exist, so you didn’t have to confront all your issues. And now your nightmares are back.” He scoffed. “Well, find someone else to help you work through them, sis, because it isn’t going to be me.”

“Wally-”

Click.

She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a good minute before trying to call back. He didn’t pick up. She tried again. No such luck. She tried one more time, and she thought she heard the soft telltale sign of someone picking up, but then there was another click and a dial tone.

She stopped trying.

Setting her phone down, she crossed into the living room and plopped onto the couch, wrapping the blanket around her.

She’d burned the last bridge that meant anything to her. What was she going to do now? Sulk for the entirety of the weekend until Monday came back around, and she went back to work? Maybe she should go back into work tomorrow. It was apparently what she was best at.

She covered her face with a pillow and screamed into it before abandoning it to get up and shower.

She’d wait till Monday to go back to work. Until then maybe she’d work to find another therapist. There had to be a way to talk to someone besides the fidgety, suddenly forward CSI Allen.

…

The day Detective West came back to work, Barry Allen was a mess.

He tried his best not to show it, to just do as he was told and not even make eye contact with her if possible, but it was incredibly difficult. He was still so worried about her state of mind, even if she acted and sounded completely normal, like nothing had ever been wrong in the first place. He didn’t know why he was surprised. It was her M.O. to act like she was incapable of being vulnerable and scared and afraid, and honestly just sad.

One thing he was not going to do was offer her his phone number again though.

Maybe in a few days, he could be back to his old self, making corny jokes and trying to make her laugh as they went about their business. But today was not that day.

Which was why when the other CSIs left for the day, and he was just about to leave himself, she surprised him completely by doing the one thing he would not have expected in a million years.

“Drinks?” he repeated, the word a foreign concept to his muddled brain.

“I understand if you don’t want to, of course,” she continued, and he watched her as she spoke, completely dazed. “But I don’t think this is crossing any lines. Co-workers go out and have drinks all the time, I’ve heard.”

“Are others coming?” He frowned.

“Well, no, but I think that’s alright. It’s not like we’re going to go home with each other, is it?”

His eyes bulged, and she seemed to be aware of what had just tumbled out of her mouth as well, but for whatever reason, she didn’t take it back.

“No.”

“No, you don’t want to come or no-”

“No, we won’t be going home with each other,” he finished, blushing fiercely.

“Oh. Right. So…you’ll come?”

He swung his briefcase over his shoulder as he stood up.

“I’ll come.”

“Jimmy’s? I heard he’s the best.”

Barry winced.

“What?”

“Well, he’s good, no doubt. But it’s also where everyone goes, and I’m guessing you don’t want this looking like a…”

“A what?”

“A…” He wrapped his hand around the back of his head.

“Spit it out, Allen.”

“A date.”

“Oh.” She flushed. “Right. Of course not. Where would you like to go then?”

“There’s a place close to my house. Not that that matters of course. I didn’t mean anything by the location. You should understand that right off the-”

“Allen?”

“Yes?”

“What’s it called?”

“Tommy’s Pub. And it’s good. It’s really good.”

“Alright. Tommy’s Pub, it is. Shoot me the address, and I’ll meet you there.”

She turned to leave, and he reached for her elbow.

“Uh, before you go…I’m going to need your phone number first.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“To send you the address?”

“Oh.” Her face smoothed over. “Of course.”

He pulled out his phone and waited for her to recite the number to him, which she did.

“Delete it after tonight, Allen.”

She poked his chest hard, and if he wasn’t mistaken, gave a tiny smirk before turning away.

“I don’t want any surprise calls asking me how I’m doing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, and she sent him what could almost be described as a flirtatious look over her shoulder before heading out of his lab.

But that was impossible.

She was his closed-off co-worker, and she had no interest in him in anything but a professional sense.

Right?

…

He found her in the back booth that ironically he usually occupied when he came for a visit. He worried of course that he would be so much later than her, and by the look on her face, he was. She even already had a drink in front of her. Hopefully it was only her first.

“Sorry,” he muttered, sliding into the booth.

“No worries,” she said, but her smile, if you could call it that, was a flat line.

“I’ll get the next one,” he said, signaling for a waiter to come bring him a drink.

“You planning on getting me drunk, Allen?”

“What?” His mouth ran dry. “No, I, uh…of course not!”

“Good. So you won’t be buying that next drink then.”

He licked his lips.

“I suppose I won’t.”

He sank into his seat, taking a short sip of his beer after it was delivered, and waiting. This had already gotten off to an awkward start. He would not mess it up further by speaking again too soon.

“Sorry,” Iris blurted.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m being too…stern. I need to work on that.”

He blinked.

“The truth is you were right about me last week.”

“I was?”

She nodded.

“I needed someone to talk to, because one of the cases did trigger me, and because I’m stubborn I didn’t want to admit that to someone I barely know.”

“We’ve worked together for a long time now, Detective West.”

“And yet you still call me Detective West. Even off the job.”

He blushed.

“I didn’t want to cross any lines. I…” He took a deep breath, preparing to risk it all. “Like you.”

She looked at him quizzically, so he decided to rein it back in.

“As a person, a colleague. I like lots of people actually. Most people in the office. My best friend, Kara… My dad…”

“Allen.”

“Yes?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Right. I’m rambling.”

She attempted a smile.

“I’ve put up a lot of walls because of what happened to my parents, to me, to my brother.” She licked her lips. “And what I’ve learned in the last week is that when you put up that many walls, you sometimes burn some bridges along the way, and then you’re left alone with no one. Nothing but what you surround yourself with. And in my case, that’s work.” She paused, mulling over what she was trying to say. “Work doesn’t give you pep talks or a warm hug or talk to you late at night when you’re feeling lonely and depressed.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “People do that.” She flicked her glance up to his. “You tried to do that.”

He held her gaze.

“I’m sorry I turned you down.”

He brushed it off.

“It’s okay, Detecti-”

She gave him a pointed look.

“Iris,” he finished, smiling a little sappily. “We barely know each other, as you said. I shouldn’t have expected you to jump up and down with excitement at my offer.”

She raised her eyebrows, amused.

“I hardly do that period.”

“To a fresh start?” he asked, lifting his glass.

“To new beginnings.”

She smiled and lifted her glass, clinking it against his. They each took a sip and set their glasses down.

“So, do you want to talk now or…do you need a distraction?”

She licked her lips.

“You know, I came in tonight wanting to spill all my guts out to you, to burden someone else with everything I’ve been holding inside for years, to talk about the nightmares, the screams…”

Barry frowned, overcome by what she was spilling already.

Iris fixed her gaze on him.

“But I think I’m still a little afraid of saying it out loud.”

He nodded knowingly.

“I understand.”

“So, what do we do instead?” she asked helplessly, wondering if this had been a total waste of time for both of them.

“We could play a game,” he suggested.

Iris tilted her head, intrigued.

“Such as?”

He gestured behind her to the pair of guys that had just finished up their round of darts.

“I haven’t played that in years,” she confessed, and he grinned, scooting out of the booth and then standing to his feet.

“Luckily for you, I am an excellent teacher.”

He extended his hand, and to his surprise she took it.

“Let’s go play some darts.”

[honeyymistt]

hi

I’ve tried sending this a few times but tumblr keeps crashing so if you receive this like five times I’m so sorry lol

okay so I’m not sure if you remember me but a while ago I messaged you about this person I matched with on a dating app and went out to dinner with. Since then we have gone out to dinner one more time but then she kept cancelling our plans so I pretty much gave up. we have seen each other around and said hi but haven’t texted or talked much since. I guess at this point I’m stuck wondering what I’ve done wrong.

it also leaves me back at dating app square one. I don’t have a large friend group which is why I went to dating apps in the first place but I’m not an extremely social person which I guess doesn’t make me great at first impressions so it’s very hard for me. also the dependence on what a person looks like over what their soul is makes the discernment and swiping process more difficult. this person I was talking to was the only person I really met via dating apps in about a year and a half of using them.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, where do you think I should go from here? I know you answered a question recently about dating so I apologize if this is slightly repetitive, but my friends here at school aren’t much help and I only really have a few friends from high school who I’d go to for advice such as this. It’s really weighing on my self esteem and self worth at this point and I’m trying not to let it affect me, but when people don’t see got as lovable it really seeps into your bones.

thanks for making it this far. I look forward to your wise words.

hi, yes i do remember you!!! ❣️i'm sorry to hear about you and this person. it's a very frustrating feeling to want to know what went wrong but not really being in contact anymore so asking them feels awkward.

i'm not saying this to make you feel better, this is completely my opinion: i don't think you did anything wrong. i think sometimes people just don't click. i know that the easiest thing to do is blame ourselves and convince ourselves that we did something "wrong" because then believe that we can fix it and work things out. but i'd argue that you did everything right, it just wasn't the right person and (this might sound way too gen z) the vibes just weren't it.

i guess what i would ask you is: are you in a rush to be in a relationship? is being in a relationship one of your top priorities? you mentioned that you're back at square one for dating apps. if a relationship is really what you're looking for atm, then i think the only advice i can give you is just stay optimistic, be yourself when texting and eventually you'll find someone who will vibe with you.

the other thing is, maybe dating apps aren't the right thing for you. i have tons of friends who have ended up deleting it because it's just not the right place for them to meet someone. the harsh reality of tinder, hinge & bumble is that a lot of people just want something casual - hookups, fwb, someone to talk to when their lonely, etc. i know you said that you're not super social but part of meeting someone, connecting and beginning to date requires putting yourself out there. maybe go out to a club with your friends and challenge yourself to talk to someone you find attractive. join a club if you're in university. sign up for a community centre class lol. go to a coffee shop regularly and strike up a conversation with someone who is always there at the same time as you. ask your friends if you could meet some of their friends.

i know it's hard but please don't let this hit your self confidence. anyone who has you in their life is a lucky one 💌

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Oh hey! Look! I didn't for get about my Second Chances AU!

Friends by happyaspie

Part 4 of Second Chances Series

No Archive Warnings Apply || Rated T || 1/2 Chapters || Michelle Jones & Peter Parker & Ned Leeds, Angst With a Happy Ending

Summary:

While Peter is off having a good time with his friends, Tony and Steve leave for a last-minute mission. They leave Peter messages to let him know they'll be home by morning. Except they're not. And when FRIDAY proves to be completely unhelpful, he starts to panic. It's a good thing he has such wonderful friends.

[This story is part of a series and may be easier to understand if you've read part 1]

[Except Below the Cut]

... “The more you know,” Ned flippantly replied. Immediately after, his eyes went wide and he began clumsily tapping on his screen. “Oh, shit. Did you know about this?”

“Know about what, Loser?” MJ asked as she strolled over to join them by the wall.

Ned rapidly waved his hand and shushed her, all the while never taking his eyes off of his screen. “I'm serious!” he hissed, then shoved his phone in front of Peter’s face. “Peter- look at this breaking news.”

The title of the article alone was enough to send a wash of anxiety rippling beneath Peter’s skin. ‘Avengers Join the Fight Against a Terrorist Group Operating Under the Guise of International Investment Company, The Targo Cooperation’ He didn’t venture to read any further, before hurriedly yanking his phone out of his pocket. He’d missed five texts.

“Shit,” he whispered, fumbling as he tried opening up the messages. He started to drop his phone at one point. But caught it with more dexterity than any human should have been able to possess. Thanks to the massive crowds of people swarming in and out of the building, no one seemed to notice.

At the top of his notifications list were three back-to-back texts from Steve. The first one read, ‘I know you’re not looking at your phone right now, but Dad and I have been called on a last-minute mission,’ followed by, ‘It shouldn’t take long. Grab some dinner on the way home. We’ll be back by tomorrow morning.’ The last one was much simpler but held the most meaning. All it said was, ’Love you, Champ.’

Peter read those messages over at least half a dozen times before clicking on Tony’s contact. There were only two messages from him. ‘Hey, Bud. Since Papa and I are out, I’m going to ask you to stay in tonight, okay?’ the initial message said. And just like Steve, the final one was less informative and more sentimental. ‘I love you, Kiddo. Stay safe. We’ll see you soon.’

Again, Peter read and reread the messages while his heart dropped down into his stomach. Since being adopted by the Stark-Rogers, both Tony and Steve had frequently gone out to take care of some kind of Avengers related business. But never together and never for something so critical. He really wasn’t sure what to do with the information he’d been given. Part of him wanted to know why they hadn't come to get him. He was Spider-Man. He could help. He could have gone on the mission too. “Shit,” repeated, that time with more vigor. It was a lot to wrap his brain around at once.

“What is it?” he heard MJ ask. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her jerking Ned’s phone in his hand. When he finally lowered his phone in favor of looking at his friends, he could see them both regarding him with concern.

“They didn’t tell you they were going?” MJ asked. Her tone and features were hard to read. She sounded worried, but her jaw was set as though she were outraged and trying to hold back.

“It was last minute. They texted me while we were in the movie,” Peter automatically defended. He swallowed with difficulty and glanced back down at his phone. “I just got the messages.”

“What did they say?” MJ asked while Ned looked on with interest.

Peter blinked a few times. His head still felt vaguely light and fuzzy with shock. “That I should get dinner on the way home and that they’ll be back in the morning.” ...

[Read More on AO3]

[03jyh23]

It's been so long since a story got me the strong urge to send a message to the author.

This is about atlas. I love keshi songs & ateez so yeah.

I knew from the start that it's not gonna have a happy ending coz 'heartbreak' was literally written there on genres. I'm not one who reads story with sad or bad endings, but I saw this while scrolling & wanna give a try reading it.

It was good. It was written well. I felt the emotions & tension in the story. In fact, I was so invested on the story that the ending broke me 🥲 I'm not saying that the ending is bad! It was good. Not all ending should always be a happy one. So it was all good, the story is good & the ending is good.

It's just my jaw dropped when his new girlfriend was revealed as a brat 😭 I kinda feel like he's not moved on yet & was lost coz why would he date a girl like that asjdgajfjabsjdjahshdjdhd

Ah! Also I love that you make them not meet so soon, when y/n went back to his place,he's gone & even his phone number was unreachable. I like that part.

My thoughts are unorganized,I'm sorry for that. But the last thing I want to say, is if you ever consider making a part 2 of them, this time, a reconciliation.. maybe you'll consider 'less of you' 🫣

I hope I didn't offend you in anyway, that's not my intention 😬🥹 have a great day ❤️

❤️

first of all, thank you so much for putting this in my inbox. don't worry, your thoughts aren't unorganized at all. they were heartfelt and clear, and i appreciate every word. you didn't offend me in the slightest; quite the opposite! your message made my day. i’m glad you shared your thoughts. i believe it’s what all authors wait for. 🩷

i completely understand your hesitation about reading stories with sad or bad endings, and im glad you decided to give atlas a try. your feedback means a lot to me; it’s wonderful to hear that you felt so invested. putting goes to waste out into the world as a whole series, i was aware that people might scroll through it since it’s an angst series. but i couldn’t really stop myself from writing because only writing angst makes me feel kind of fulfilled. i guess i live for the heartbreak. yet i still hoped to reach someone, even the smallest audience. im glad it reached you.

you’re absolutely right about the new girlfriend—her character was intended to reflect that Mingi hasn't fully moved on. i choose to write her like that to show how he might still be grappling with his past and making choices that don’t quite align with what he truly needs.

as for part 2, you are the second person to ask me about it! i hadn’t planned on doing so (atlas was supposed to be a hurt/no comfort fic since the very beginning). i will give it some thought but i’m kind of scared of not writing it up to expectations.

and you too, my dear anon, have a nice day! thank you for reading and leaving this message. 🩷

oh, and thank you for suggesting less of you! i've forgotten how much i loved this song.

[peakyblindersxx]

come home with me - finn shelby x reader

a/n: you have @michaelgreys to thank for this one (& the gif!!! check her out she's amazing). s5 finn cause god damn!!1 i honestly dont have much to say about this one other than it's definitely self indulgent and not even god can help me at this point. i'm working on p4 to whiskey buisness rn as well as some requests, thank you for all the sweet comments!!

love, abi xxx

my masterlist

prompt: finn hates you so much he might want to fuck you.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, pretty fluffy cause he's baby 🥺

Working for the Shelby Company wasn’t difficult, except for one thing: Finn Shelby. You were one of the many secretaries, in charge of conveying messages, filing papers, and many other important things, such as making sure the glass decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in Tommy’s office was never empty. It wasn’t a very taxing job, but Finn went out of his way to get under your skin in every way he could. Maybe it was the fact that you wouldn’t back down, having a quick retort to anything close to disrespectful that he said to you. The other brothers never said a thing to intervene, Arthur even telling you he was glad you had a backbone.

“Finn’s a cocky thing, eh? Too cocky for his own good. A girl like you’ll put ‘im in his place,” he had slurred, while you collected the letters he’d asked you to mail.

“Dunno, Mr. Shelby,” you’d mused. “Seems like he’s got some sort of problem with me.”

“Don’t even bother with that, he’s just an arrogant fuck. Probably got some sort of crush on you an’ is too shy to do shit about it. You know, first time he fucked a whore, he said sorry,” Arthur grunted. You’d chalked up his admissions to the half empty bottle of whiskey that he was clutching and the light dusting of snow on his right nostril. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if the looks Finn shot your way, though seemingly out of irritation, meant something more. You couldn’t lie, you’d thought about what it’d be like to feel the youngest Shelby brother’s bow-shaped lips on your neck, his hands on your waist. It couldn’t be true, you resolved; Arthur was just wasted and you were delusional.

Monday came, and Tommy had asked you to work in the betting shop for the next few weeks. “Make sure Finn’s not fucking up,” he had grunted, taking a long drag of his cigarette, clear blue eyes barely leaving the stacks of paper that littered his massive desk. Of course you’d agreed, but you were nervous. Something about it made your heart beat faster in your chest. You took a shot of whiskey before you left, hoping the dark liquor would help calm your nerves. Isaiah insisted on accompanying you, telling you there were too many people that didn’t like them around there and to make sure someone was always with you for the next few weeks. You were grateful for his presence, the jokes he cracked easing your mind as the two of you walked briskly along the cobblestone streets. It didn’t take long to get there, Isaiah holding the door open for you as the warm air inside the betting office washed over you. Finn turned to see who it was, a scowl tugging at the edges of his mouth once he saw you.

“Why the fuck is she here,” he drawled, sitting at his desk with his feet up, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingertips. As much as you hated to admit it, he looked fucking good, hair neatly combed back, smelling of expensive cologne in a pressed navy blue suit. He was tall, legs stretching across the desk as he sent a glare in your direction, you rolling your eyes in response.

“Tommy said,” Isaiah interjected, sensing the tension in the air. “He said you said you needed more help, or somethin’.”

“Fuckin’ christ,” Finn mumbled, taking a drag from his cigarette before putting it out on the crystal ashtray that sat on his desk, standing to grab a stack of books from one of the shelves behind him.

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the fucking plauge or something,” you retorted, Isaiah stifling his chuckle as he looked anywhere but at the two of you. Finn ignored you, instead setting the pile of books on his desk.

“Come look at this, before I change my mind,” he said, instead. You obliged, walking behind his desk to see what he was gesturing to as Isaiah excused himself, something about “gettin’ fucking plastered, mate!” Finn was easily a head taller than you, so he practically towered over you, engulfing you in a cloud of his intoxicating cologne as you stood so close to him that you could practically feel the heat emanating from his body.

“So, these are the bets, and those are the outcomes,” he explained, arm brushing against your body slightly as he pointed to the different columns written out in the log. To your chagrin, your skin prickled in response, your body unable to control itself. Yet, you pushed it down, not wanting to give Finn the satisfaction of knowing that you wanted him. God knows he’d hold it against you forever. What he was explaining was simple enough, and you were able to grasp it fairly quickly. He was all business, handing you the logs he needed you to double check, as you sank into the desk adjacent to his, pouring over the books and coming to him to confirm small corrections.

However, after a couple of drinks of whiskey (some of which you admittedly consumed), Finn started talking. Small things, like how irritating Tommy was or how much they’d made off a certain horse. He’d never opened up to you like this; it was always a snide remark that usually set off an argument, since the two of you were fairly hot-headed. This time, it was different. Finn was still looking at you, but with slightly rosy cheeks and a smile threatening to spread across his face every time you made a witty remark. This time, you liked the way he was looking at you.

***

Two thirds of a bottle later, you were both on the floor in front of the fire, laughing at something Finn had said. Admittedly, he had said it just to see you laugh. He liked when you laughed, he realized. It was much better than the irritated look on your face that he usually saw. In all honesty, it was probably his fault, he thought to himself. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but he really wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life. You sat next to him, shoulders brushing as the two of you talked, your jacket long abandoned, revealing the flimsy straps of the black lace dress. You looked so fucking pretty, he couldn’t help himself.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that, right? Always wondered why you hung ‘round us lot, bunch of mean fuckers.” The words fell out of his mouth, hovering in the air between the two of you. You stared at him, slightly taken aback, but the liquor was doing the talking for both of you, it seemed.

“Look who’s fucking talking. Half the girls in Brum would gladly fuck you, even just for a night.”

Finn paused, lighting a cigarette and offering you a drag.“What about you?”

You accepted, taking a puff before passing it back. “What about me?”

He cracked a grin. “Would you fuck me?”

His bluntness took you aback, but you were too far gone to think properly. “Maybe,” you admitted, a coy smile playing at your lips. Finn’s eyes darkened, closing the distance between the two of you until his body was almost touching yours, the tension between you crackling like the fire just a few feet away.

“What about now?” he muttered, lips brushing ever so slightly against your neck, causing you to shiver. He noticed, his hands finding the curve of your hips, searing through your dress. You couldn’t help but tilt your neck back slightly, a gasp leaving your lips as Finn pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your skin.

“Finn,” you moaned quietly, the smile on his lips growing wider as his hands fiddled with the hem of your dress, fingertips sliding underneath to grip lightly at the soft skin of your thighs. “Fuckin’ do something already, christ.”

Finn grinned. “Always got a fuckin’ mouth on you, eh? You’re lucky I find that attractive,” he teased. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, his fingers found your silk panties, pushing them to the side to rub lightly against your clit, causing you to jolt in pleasure. You were already wet, to Finn’s satisfaction, and he had no trouble pushing a finger inside of you. The moans that were leaving your mouth were sinful, and he savored each one, watching the way you squirmed when he added another, curling them inside of you.

“Look so goddamn pretty, stuffed full of my fingers,” he crooned, sending your eyes rolling back in your head, eyelashes fluttering.

“Finn, please,” you whined, his nimble fingers deftly unzipping your dress and sliding it off, leaving you in your black silk bra and panties. Finn paused, taking a second to drink you in before pressing his lips to yours. They were softer than you could have imagined, hands gripping at your waist as he tugged at your bottom lip for access. You let him in, melting at his touch like butter.

“Want you inside me,” you mumbled against his lips, causing his muscles to stiffen as he sprang into action, pulling you on top of him, lining his already hard cock up with you. He was big, and if you weren’t already so ready for him, you might have been a little nervous. He slowly pushed inside of you, helping you sink down on top of him with one hand as he swore under his breath, using his other hand to unhook your bra, throwing it to the side and exposing your breasts to the cool air, nipples hardening at his touch.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Finn growled, unable to resist from taking one of them into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. The sound you made in response was pathetic, but fuck if it wasn’t fueling his appetite for you. He couldn’t help but push up into you, a tight grip on your hipbones, holding you up as he rammed into you, cock pressing up against your g-spot, sending your vision spinning.

“Fuck, Finn, m’gonna cum,” you cried, eyes sqeezed shut, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you. Finn grunted, somehow increasing his pace, pressing kisses to wherever he could.

“Go ahead darlin’, want you to cum all over my cock,” he cajoled, the words sending waves of pleasure through you. You couldn’t help but follow his orders, colors flickering across your eyesight. The image of you cumming just for him sent Finn over the edge, groaning your name as he finished inside of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs. You looked so fucking angelic in the firelight, he had the sudden urge to take care of you.

“Y’alright?” He asked, reaching for a rag to clean you up. You nodded, smiling softly down at him as he couldn’t help but press a kiss to your hipbone. He looked up at you, eyes full of adoration.

“Come home with me?” Finn murmured, hands fidgeting.

“Yeah,” you replied, a glow tinging your cheeks as you looked at him the same. “Let’s go home.”