#nothing has changed in the past year and a half plus

[silentheiss]

Shen Yuan is not a parent. He’s lazy, he’s a shut-in, he barely has a job. His parents pay for everything he owns. Plus, he’s not even thirty! Children can’t raise children!

All of this, though, doesn’t change the fact that there’s a mean little six year old sleeping in his apartment at least four nights a week.

“Yuan-ge, did you know young children sometimes die of hunger? Like, in poor countries. They don’t have food, so they die. Of hunger.” Shi Hai says, blinking up at him from where she’s sitting on the floor by the low table, dragging her chopsticks through the noodles in her take out container.

“Yes.” Shen Yuan answers distractedly. They’re watching the second episode of Love Game in Eastern Fantasy, and it’s kind of good. “Why?”

“I think I might chose that over this stink.”

“Ay, don’t be rude!” Shen Yuan gasps, turning to look at the girl fully. Her bangs are getting too long, falling past her eyebrows. They’ll have to get it cut soon. “I thought you liked that?”

“It’s better than beer.” Shi Hai shrugs. “But I’d maybe like a vegetable.”

Shen Yuan swears internally. He’s not equipped to do that. He should call Child Protection Services or something. They will contact the police, arrest Shi Wen, for some time at least, until her father gets her out of jail and back into the big, alcohol-filled apartment. And they will find a better home for Shi Hai. The one with actual adults, who can feed a child. Yes, he should do that.

He will.

“There’s a bell pepper in your noodles.” Shen Yuan mumbles. “Finish up, it’s time for a bath. You have school tomorrow.”

Shi Hai sighs.

“No.” Shen Yuan says, knowing well where this is going.

“Yuan-ge. School is ass.”

“Stop that. Kids don’t talk like that. Be cute.” Shen Yuan grumbles, turning back to the screen.

“This book is shit.” Shi Hai says in a low voice, clearly copying him. “What dumbass thought it’s worth my time. Idiot author.”

Shen Yuan throws a pillow at her.

“I don’t swear that much.” He says to himself.

“Uh-huh, Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai smiles. “Will you curl my hair before I go to bed? With the sock?”

“If you actually wash your hair, and not just stick your head under the water.” Shen Yuan says.

“Ugh.” Shi Hai groans. She puts her container back on the table and stomps away in the direction of the bathroom. Shen Yuan pauses his drama and gets up, too, to clean up. He’s been scolded by a child enough for one evening.

He throws away the trash, wipes the table and once he can hear the water running, he steps out of the apartment to knock on the next door to the right.

“Come on, Shi Wen.” He mumbles, when there’s no answer. “Don’t you care at all?”

Shen Yuan knocks again, louder. And again.

“I don’t think anyone’s home.”

Shen Yuan turns sharply and comes face to face with a man who, by all accounts, shouldn’t be real. He’s tall, exceedingly handsome, with long flowing hair and- he is holding a box filled with books as if it weighs nothing at all.

“She’s home.” Shen Yuan says dumbly.

The man smiles at him. Shen Yuan knocks on the door again, just for something to do.

“Neighborly visit?” The man asks, looking quite pointedly at his sweatpants and bare feet.

“Something like that.” Shen Yuan nods. “You’re moving in?”

“Yes. Luo Binghe.” The man says. “Got an apartment just down the hall.”

“Oh. Welcome, then. I’m Shen Yuan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Shen Yuan.” Luo Binghe says. His smile is a little distracting. It looks soft, but actually isn’t.

“Nice to meet you.” Shen Yuan nods. “I-

“Yuan-ge!” Shi Hai yells. “I forgot my towel.”

“Gotta go!” Shen Yuan smiles and rushes back to his apartment.

He fetches Shi Hai’s towel, her pajamas and soft slippers. Next hour or so is spent combing her hair, oiling it and curling it onto a sock roll. If it turns out pretty, maybe she won’t make a fuss about going to school tomorrow.

Shen Yuan gets Shi Hai into his bed, reads one of his more kid-friendly novels outloud for half an hour to get her to actually fall asleep, and then goes to the guest bedroom to sleep. He tried to appoint the guest bedroom for Shi Hai, but she wouldn’t have it, and he is, apparently, a pushover when it comes to bratty kids.

Shen Yuan doesn’t think about Luo Binghe until the next morning when he drags protesting Shi Hai through the door.

“Come on, Hai Hai, the taxi is waiting.” He says.

“Schools is-”

“No! Stop that!”

“Shit, ass, poop!” Shi Hai yells.

“Fucking- Shi Hai!”

“Good morning, neighbors.” Comes a bemused voice comes from somewhere behind his back.

“Good my ass.” Shen Yuan grumbles, still tugging on Shi Hai’s hand. He turns his head briefly to see who’s day they’re ruining. “Oh, hi, Luo Binghe.”

“Yuan-ge.” Luo Binghe smiles slowly. He’s dressed in all black, leather pants and silk shirt. He looks like a model.

“He’s my Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai grunts, gripping Shen Yuan’s hand tighter. At least she’s not swearing anymore.

“You don’t seem to respect him very much, do you?” Luo Binghe asks.

“What do you know.” Shi Hai says. “Ugly.”

Luo Binghe opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. Shen Yuan feels like all of his blood has flown into his cheeks. Shi Hai’s looking down at the floor, clearly embarrassed but no, too little too late, little one.

“Shi Hai.” He says sternly. “I’m very disappointed right now.”

He then looks at Luo Binghe, still gaping at them.

“Luo Binghe, I’m sorry. You’re very pretty.” Shen Yuan knows his attempt at damage control is faulty, but he’s not a parent. He doesn’t know how to do that.

He sighs, locks his apartment door, and walks away with a very docile child. They’ll talk in the car, he decides.

edit: i wrote more 🙈

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62095903/chapters/158849326

[exdeputysonso]

my favorite thing about people bitching about the winchesters is the people being mad cas wasn’t mentioned. it keeps catching me off guard in the comments on posts reblogged by my samdean mutuals. like that’s not even on my radar in this whole mess at all.

[mmurderhousewrites]

Rich Baby Daddy pt. one (sukuna x reader)

Summary: You're invited to a party by a close friend and end up bumping into someone from your past.

Warnings: none.

The mornings used to be your favorite. Waking up next to your hunk of a man. The sun shining through your bedroom windows. Oh how you missed those lovely mornings.

Now however, your mornings consisted of you waking up at the crack of dawn due to your crying 4 year old. bathing and clothing not only yourself but your child as well, making breakfast, and somehow managing to get to work on time.

Now on your days off, if you were lucky, Yuji, your son, would sleep in. And if god was somehow on your side that day, your baby daddy might even come pick up his son for awhile, giving you some free time. But those days were rare considering Sukuna is a business man.

Sukuna is the CEO of jujutsu tech, a huge electronic corporation. you had met him through your close friend getou and hit it off. Eventually you two moved in with each other and not long after that he got you pregnant.

Times have changed though unfortunatley. Sukuna is a very hard working man, so hardworking that he put his job before his own family. About a year after yuji was born you decided to leave after getting into a big argument with sukuna, taking yuji with you.

At first you stayed with your parents for a while before finding yourself a cute apartment in the city, it was a two bedroom 1 and a half bathroom. That's where you and yuji have been ever since.

You and your baby dad have had a neutral relationship ever since, sukuna of course always trying to get you to go back but times have changed and you are a new woman.

As of now it was about 1:00pm. You worked as a journalist in the new station in the city, not to far from your apartment. sitting at your desk, going through old news feed, your phone dings.

Looking over you see youve gotten a message. It was from Getou.

Geto: hey, theres some kind of party later a friend of mine is hosting. Wanted to know if u were interested in being my plus 1 ;p

You giggle to yourself. What a flirt. You could always drop yuji off to your parents for the night, after all they loved your little pink haired baby. And on top of that you could use a night out.

Quickly typing back to geto you respond,

Me: Sounds interesting.. Whats the dresscode?

geto: formal. I figure you might get a good story out of one of these rich folks huh?

Me: hmmm i think im sold suguru.

geto: great! ill pick you up at 8.

"L/N! I'm not paying you to text on your phone! I need a story!" You hear your boss, Mark yell from his office behind you.

You roll your eyes before collecting your things, standing up you head over to marks office. "The Richardsons are hosting a party tonight, i'm gonna see what tea i can find. I know the juliani"s are hiding something." You say leaning against the door frame.

"yeah well the Juliani's have a mind of their own."

"im gonna leave to go get ready." you say turning around, heading to the exit.

"L/N!" Mark calls out to you making you stop and turn to face him. "be careful. I don't need another Journalist coming up missing." You nod your head before leaving the building and heading to the parking lot.

It was true, the last journalist who went to investage the Juliani family, they turned up missing. In fact it was your coworker Nobara Kugisaki. Police reports were made out by her family about a week ago and nothing has come up.

you shivered as you walked to your car, the cold making it so you can see your breathe. Once you reached your car, a small 2020 Honda civic, you opened your door and put your bags in.

"Y/n" you freeze, hearing that oh so sexy voice say your name for the first time in what? months?

Turning around you find yourself face to face with the man you once loved, oh who are you kidding still love. He was wearing a long black coat and black jeans, his pink hair ruffled as usual and his tattoos just added to his handsome features.

"ryo- what are you doing here?" You ask, crossing your arms.

He walks closer to you, making you take a step back, leaning against your cars back door.

"i just wanted to see you." He says quietly, swiping a piece of your hair out of your face and behind your ear. You can't help but blush.

Pushing his hand away, you roll your eyes. "What are you really here for" you werent an idiot. Sukuna is a powerful man and busy one at that, there was no way he got out of work just to come see you.. especially considering he barely seen your son. But you couldn't be mad after all he was sending you checks every few weeks with at least 3,000$ on them.. so he was still providing for you and yuji in a way.

He chuckles, "I heard youre going to that party later with Getou.."

Was he serious right now? "What about it?" You question, eyebrow perking up.

"Don't go." He says darkly.

"Are you kidding me? What are you jealous? I'm a grown woman i deserve a night out once in a while!" You say before turning away and hoping in your car.

Sukuna leans against your window, so you roll it down. "Look kitten, if i were you i'd actually listen to your baby dad for once. It's not gonna be pretty" he smiles before backing away from your car.

You take this opportunity to pull out of the parking lot, making your way to yuji's daycare.

When you arrive at the daycare. You are first greeted by gojo, one of the daycare teachers and also getou's best friend.

"Well hello there Y/N! Here for yuuji?" Gojo asks, leaning towards you. "Its nap time right now so the children are asleep."

"Well unfortunately i'm going to have ti disturb his sleep because we have a pretty busy schedule for tonight" you laugh. "How have you been?" You havent really had a conversation with gojo in a while, you and him werent close, maybe because of how much of an extrovert he is.

"Im alriiight! I got a new apartment on 37th its a real beautyy." He drags on.

"Nice! Thats good to here" gojo pulls out his walky talky and yells loudly, "yuji has an early dismissal!!"

Next thing you know, theres a bunch of crying children in the next room over. What an idiot. You mentally facepalm.

Shoko, another daycare teacher comes out with yuji in her arms. He looks over to you and smiles.

After you get yuji and yourself situated in the car, you guys make your way over to your parents house. You had called them on your way to get yuji and of course they were more then thrilled to take yuji for the night.

Your parents lived anout 25 minutes away from the city so the drive wasnt too bad. Yuji was in his carseat playing on his ipad and minding his business.

"Mommy can i have 100$" your four year old says randomly. You cant help but laugh loudly.

"What do you need $100 for butt?" You ask, looking back at your som through the rear view mirror.

"I want a trampoline" he says, looking at you.

"You already have a trampoline at Nana's house and youre going there right now."

"But thats at nana's i want my own! My friend megumi has one at his house" he says, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah yeah."

After dropping your sin off to your parents, and making your way make home, you look through your closet trying to find a decent formal dress. You did have quit a few dresses considering you and sukuna would attend parties and other get togethers for business reasons.

Coming across a long black velvet dress you stop your search. This dress is skin tight and strapless, but has small diamonds adorned around the dress, making it sparkle just right.

Once you got dressed and finished your makeup, you put your hair up into a slick back ponytail, and added a little star charm clip to go with it. You looked absolutely gorgeous. Though your choice in heels would definitely make your feet sore after a night of dancing, looking good is what truly mattered. After all you were really only going to collect some dirt on any of the business men doing work with the Juliani's.

Tonight sure was going to be interesting.

[hamiltonaf]

Can you do one with Kylian being very jealous of yn all the time and every time she talks to a guy friend he gets mad and makes a big fuss about it and yn gets tired of him and wants to leave him but then he gets upset and begs for forgiveness but she is so tired of his bullshit and want to take a break from the relationship but after 1-2 months they get back together and he got jealous again so she wants to know why he is like that and it turned out that his ex girlfriend cheated on him multiple times so he had trust issues and she assured him that she wasn’t going to do the same thing

Trust Issues | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Minor angst

A/N: Hii loves ! I’m finally back. Apologies for being MIA, I had a lot going on, plus I had writers block. I’m sorry in advance if the end is disappointing - I honestly feel like I forgot how to write lol. If you’ve sent a request before, please note that I’m working on it. Anywho, enjoy .xoxo

Never thought I’d come to a point in life where I had to cut off all my guy friends for Kylian’s sake. I’ve told myself in the past that if I had to face that in a relationship then I’m walking out. Mentally I’m playing hangman with Kylian’s name.

I love Kylian, I really do, it’s also cute at times to see him get jealous but when it comes to a point when he tells me that I need to stop talking to my guy friend then I don’t vibe with that. He’s basically saying that he doesn’t trust me.

We’ve fought, he apologised, I looked past it for us to move on, but he just crossed the line.

I went out for a friend’s birthday dinner, Kylian decided to stay back and chill at home, though he promised he would pick me up after. The birthday dinner felt like a reunion as some of us were seeing each other after years, it was great catching up with everyone, especially Daniel. Him and I were really close growing up as our parents were good friends, but since I moved and was with Kylian I rarely attended gatherings.

It was getting quite late and Kylian was delayed, I didn’t bother rushing him since Daniel was accompanying me and we were just catching up on lost time. We were stood outside the restaurant, dinner had just ended, some had left and others were in their own conversations. “So how are things going? What have you been up to ?” Daniel eagerly asked. “Well, I’m in my final year of studying so it’s been a bit much but I’m coping. How are things going for you ?” I replied. “Life is great. Can’t complain” he smiled proudly. “Still running your parent’s empire I suppose” I smiled. “Nothing has changed” he grinned.

“Good for you Dan. You’re living the dream” I half laughed. “I’m living the dream ?” He scoffed. “Yeah of course ! You’re travelling literally every other month, flying first class and living the good life” I said. “Yeah but you’re the one dating the football player !” He stated. “Speaking of him, let me just check how far he is” I paused to check my phone if perhaps Kylian called or messaged. Nothing.

Just as I locked my phone, my head turned when I heard a car rev in the distance, he’s here. “Oh look. There he is” I said as both of our heads snapped to Kylian pulling up beside us. Daniel leaned towards the car as Kylian rolled down the window, “Hey man, I’m Daniel” he introduced himself. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kylian” Kylian shook his hand. “Heard a lot about you. We should meet up soon, I’ll message (Y/N)” Daniel suggested. “Yeah sure” Kylian said lastly. “Take care bro” Daniel said before pulling me in for a hug. “Bye Dan. Until next time” I murmured. “Until then. Ciao” he said as his hand rubbed my back before breaking away from our hug.

I got into the car and immediately I could feel the tension in the air. “Hi baby” I smiled as I leaned in to kiss his cheek. He didn’t say anything or react, he just remained stiff. I knew what was coming and I wasn’t ready to face the drama for the umpteenth time. Choosing not to say anything in the car until we got home was the best decision. The second the door shut, he didn’t surprised me by being the one to bring it up. “What was that ?” He raised his voice. “What was what ?” I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Who even was that Daniel guy ? I was there for only a minute and I could see the way he was looking at you. You both seemed to enjoy that hug a little too much” he said. I scoffed, “Are you being serious right now ?”

“Do I look like I’m joking ?” He yelled annoyed. “You have honestly lost it !” I yelled as I turned my back on him and stormed towards our room. “(Y/N) I’m talking to you !” He yelled for me as he followed me to the room. “How the hell can you say we enjoyed that hug a little too much. Are you trying to call me a cheater ?” I raised my voice as I turned around to face him. “You’re just putting words into my mouth. My point is that if another person had seen you both together, they would think you’re a couple. I don’t want you seeing him again” he said.

“You know what Kylian ? I’m done” I huffed. “What do you mean done ?” He asked baffled. “I mean that I can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue being in a relationship where my own boyfriend doesn’t even trust me or allows me to talk to other guy friends of mine without assuming I’m cheating. I’m living a lie by staying in this relationship. Go find yourself a girlfriend that you can control because I’m not that girl” I said before getting a bag and packing it with my belongings.

“Babe please don’t do this. I swear I’m not trying to control you. I’ll admit that I got jealous, okay ? But please don’t go. I love you so much, what will I do without you ?” he pleaded and tried to stop me from packing but I continued.

“No Kylian ! Today you literally crossed the line, I couldn’t care so much for the other guys you said I need to stop talking to, but the fact that Daniel and I go way back and now you want me to cut off our friendship ? He’s basically apart of my family because his parents and my parents are friends. Kylian…I’m so tired honestly of us going back and forth. It just bothers me that Daniel attempted to be your friend in that minute you met but instead you ignore all of that and insinuate that I cheated ? Get some help because I need a break from your shit…this has gone past jealousy” I said in anger, I didn’t have it in me to cry.

“(Y/N) please. I’ll change okay ? I’ll do better. But please don’t go. Please give me another chance” he begged. “Kylian I gave you way too many chances. I can’t believe how long I’ve dealt with this and didn’t leave sooner” I said as I zipped up my bag. “So that’s it ? You’re just going to throw away a 2 year relationship ?” He asked. “All I know right now is that we need space away from each other. I love you Kylian, I do, but I think it’s best for the both of us” I pressed my lips together as I threw my bag over my shoulder. “So we’re over ?” He asked teary eyed. “I- please don’t make this harder than it already is” my voice cracked as I looked up in hopes that my tears would disappear.

“Babe you can’t give up on us. We’re meant for each other” he said as he grabbed my hands and rubbed small circles at the back of them. “Kylian, consider this a break rather than a break up. We can both wisely use this time to focus on ourselves…if we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other.”

Those were the last words I’ve said to him face-to-face. I left that night and ended up staying at my parent’s house. They were surprised to see me and were quick to ask where Kylian was, I just lied that he’s travelling for an away game. 2 weeks of staying with my parents raised suspicion and they figured out that something was wrong, my mom especially. I told my mom exactly what happened and luckily she took the hint to not talk about it.

Not a day passed that I didn’t receive a message from Kylian. Countless ‘I love you’ and ‘I miss you’ flooded my phone daily, it wasn’t easy taking this time to focus on myself when he was on my mind all day. Whilst making his message clear, he indirectly would ask for us to talk it out and as much as it hurts, I refused. No point in us getting back together if he’s going to go back to square one.

After about a week, I caved in and started replying back to his messages. Eventually easing in to phone calls and FaceTimes. It’s been 3 weeks since that day I called on a break, today I decided it’s time to meet and talk things out.

He seemed sincere and genuine when we met, of course I couldn’t help but give him another chance. We were meeting for one week as if we were in love all over again and after that one week, we’re back together.

Daniel was in town and he wanted to meet up, I happily accepted his lunch invite and was looking forward to rekindling our friendship. Kylian was at training so I thought I’d get ready in the meantime until he was back.

“Ma chérie !” He called as he entered. “In the room, Ky !” I yelled. He came into the room and whistled behind me. “You look beautiful” he said as he placed a kiss on my neck. “Thank you babe” I blushed. “Where are you going ?” He asked as he walked over to sit at the edge of the bed. “I’m going out for lunch with Daniel” I said casually. “Wait, what !” He asked as he stood up. “Why ? I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t see him ?” He said as he changed his tone. I dropped my mascara on the counter and stood up, “Are you back to this nonsense where I can’t have guy friends ?” I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Do you not know how the story goes about childhood guy friends falling for their girl friends ?” He stood up to stand arms length away from me. “No, Kylian ! That’s not how the story goes. Do you not know it takes two people to be in love which hello ? I’m obviously not.” I said as I started to grow angry. “(Y/N), you don’t know how a guys mind works” he said as he shut his eyes for a second. “Before I walk out of this relationship one more time, could you care to explain your reasoning behind why I can’t have guy friends ?” I raised a brow. His face softened when he heard me mention walking out.

“Babe please no . I’m sorry” he rushed over to me to hold my hands in his. I pulled my hands away from his grip, “Explain Kylian…I can’t continue entertaining this.” He sighed and dropped his head before mustering up the courage. “I have trust issues because of my ex” he admitted. I was shocked. “Well, what happened ?” I asked curiously.

“I trusted her and was never one to question anything she did until I found out she cheated on me with those guys she called her friends. Soo…I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst, I was heartbroken and felt betrayed. It’s been hard for me to accept having trust. It’s not you babe, I promise I trust you, I just fear that your guy friends will convince you to leave me and walk away from our relationship. I can’t bare losing you, not again after the break” he said as he got emo. “Aww Ky” I pouted as I pulled him in for a hug. We never left each others embrace for a few minutes until Kylian broke away to kiss my forehead.

“I’m glad I got that off my chest. You deserved to know. I love you so much and I’m sorry for my behaviour. I’m trying to be a better boyfriend for you after our break so please be patient with me” he pouted. “I get it now. Thank you for being honest babe” I gave him a quick peck on his lips. “You can go out with Daniel, I won’t stop you any longer” he sighed. “Look, as your girlfriend, I want to help you through this. Remember Daniel suggested you guys going out ? Well why don’t you join us, I’ll send him a message and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. That way you have an idea of what Daniel is like and you have a peace of mind. Also, it’s not just about trusting Daniel, I would like if you and Daniel could be friends. I mean the man is practically family” I half laughed before sending a message to Daniel. “Shame I feel bad now for hating on the guy” he sighed. “Well what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him” I winked then sent the message.

[oceantornadoo]

reunited at the yoga studio

simon left without a word three years ago, and now he was here at the yoga class you taught.

angsty, no smut (unfortunately), hurt and comfort, slightly fluffy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“come on, l.t., it’ll be fun. plus, we’re already here.” soap urged ghost into the yoga studio with vigor, eager to make his lieutenant loosen up. “she’s a 70 years old lass with the flexibility of a damn olympian, you have to meet her.” for the past three weeks they had been on leave, soap had been ranting about his new favorite yoga teacher, a lady named marcia who taught a class on releasing physical trauma. finally, finally, he had convinced ghost to come with, who had relented only out of pure curiosity. they walked in, ghost wearing a clinical mask on the bottom half of his face. the teacher wasn’t there to greet them, uncommon but not unheard of, and ghost urged them to place their mats in the back, wanting a quick escape if needed. he followed soap’s routine, taking off his shoes and readying his water bottle. and then, you walked in.

“hi everyone! i’m covering for marcia, she had a last minute emergency, nothing to worry about. let’s get started, yeah?” ghost was reeling. you were here, and you were a yoga teacher? he hadn’t seen you in three years, memories of that terrible breakup coming to mind. his heart started pounding and his fingers itched to move, but that would only draw further attention to him. he resolved to be as quiet as a mouse, viewing this as a stealth mission instead of a yoga class. soap noticed immediately but said nothing, figuring it was because of the amount of people instead of a specific person. 

you led the 45 minute class with confidence, noting ghost’s shyness but not noticing him. plenty of people were uncomfortable doing yoga, so you wrote it off as another shy participant and moved on. as the class ended, you had everyone stand facing you, and finally noticed. those dark brown eyes, that dark blonde-brown hair slightly grown out from his military buzzcut. the breadth of his shoulders, breathing slightly with exertion from the end of the class. he locked eyes with you as you whispered “namaste”, all the air rushing out of your lungs like a punch to the gut. people were moving, coming up to you as you thanked them robotically, your eyes locked on ghost’s form. the class cleared out but he was taking his time putting on his shoes on the ground, a man you figured was his friend waiting patiently beside him. you marched towards him like you were walking through water, each step harder and harder to take. 

ghost knew he couldn’t ignore you any longer, couldn’t make a quick getaway as he had waited too long. he could have put his shoes on faster but had stayed, whether it was to self-flagellate or out of morbid curiosity, he didn’t know. he felt like he was watching himself from above, seeing you approach him like you would a wild animal. he readied himself for battle, muttering to soap that he would see him later. soap cleared the room, brows knitting in confusion at the scene. finally, ghost turned his head up at you, making peace with the pain that was sure to follow. he was always one step from death, but somehow this felt harder. 

“since when are you a yoga teacher?” he spoke first, wanting to break the ice.

“a lot can change in three years, simon. you would know.” you said, all bark no bite. you took a seat in front of him on the floor, thankful that you were done with classes for the day. you’d need a lot of recovery time after this.

“no one’s called me that in a long time. good for you, dove.”

“no one has called me that in a long time too. you’re a blast from the past.” he was nervous, hands running through his hair as he tried to maintain eye contact. ghost didn’t get overwhelmed, couldn’t afford it on the battlefield, but simon did. you always did manage to bring simon to the surface, with your fleeting smiles and gentle words.

“i’m s-”

“what are-”

you both stopped and gave a short laugh. you gestured at him, wanting to hear what he had to say.

“i’m sorry for the way i left. you didn’t deserve that. you didn’t deserve anything i did, dove.” his comment took you off guard. the simon you knew, the simon you had dated for two years before he left in that night, never apologized. he had never taken accountability for the way he made you feel, with his gruff words and long silences. 

“oh. thank you, that actually means a lot. what are you doing here?”

“soap’s tryin’ get me out of the house, kept going on and on about his teacher marcia. imagine my surprise when you walked through that door instead.” you laughed despite yourself, remembering how much of a homebody simon had been. you had always been pleading him to go out, take you on a date, anything. some things never changed. you fidgeted and, without meaning to, glanced at his left hand. bare.

“‘m not married. if you were wonderin’.” simon was gaining more courage now. you hadn’t yelled or hit him yet, so he figured time had healed some of your wounds. he took off his mask and slipped it into his pocket, never afraid to show his face around you, even years later. you gave him a shy smile, embarrassed you had been caught looking. he noticed your hand was bare as well, but he wanted to make sure before he got his hopes up. 

“are you? attached?” 

“no, i-, i’m not. i was dating this guy for a year but we broke up when i wanted to get married and he didn’t.” 

“bastard. i should have been the only stupid guy to leave you.” he was trying to lighten the mood, but you still had a burning question you needed to know. you had moved on from the past, figuring he had his own reasons, but the hurt still lingered. the voice in the back of your head still told you you were unlovable, someone no one wanted to stay with forever.

“why did you? leave me, i mean.” the mood dropped, the air tense with anticipation. you had wanted to know for years as the nights of almost drunk texting him were too many to count. you straightened your spine, projecting confidence as his slowly faded, his eyes searching the ground. simon was a big man, huge even, but in that moment he looked so small.

“it was never about you, i want you to know that. that night, i-. it was too real. we had just had that date, and i almost asked you to marry me right there. i couldn’t do it. knew you’d be tied to me forever, and that some day i’d break your heart. turn into my father or go m.i.a., who knows. so i decided to do it then, when i still had control. worst decision of my life, love.” he locked eyes with you as he said his last sentence, emotion swimming behind his eyes. simon had never communicated with you like this, willingly telling you about his thoughts and feelings. you could sense the change in him, more mature and self-assured than he had been three years ago. unshed tears gathered in your eyes, bringing back all those feelings of hopelessness and abandonment that had haunted you in the months after. the sleepless nights wearing his t shirt, the smell of him slowly fading until you donated it.

simon was hurting, aching. he was trying so hard, using all of those tools the base psychiatrist had talked to him about over the years. the man he had been three years ago was fully ghost, consumed by fear and hiding it well, until he broke down and left. now he knew how to separate the two, how to take off the mask and let simon come out. now, he was some semblance of a real man, no longer broken by the crippling shadow of his father. there had been a few girls in the years after the breakup, barracks bunnies and friends with benefits, but no one as ever serious as you. seeing you here was a sign that all his hard work had been for something. and finding out you were single? he couldn’t let you get away again.

“let me take you out, on a real date. let me make everything up.” suddenly he was pleading, hand stroking your face as you shed tears at his words. “i’m not afraid anymore.” he said quietly, sacred words in the peace of the yoga studio. your head snapped up, anger clouding your judgement.

“how can you say that? how can you promise that? after what you did? i was distraught, simon. i thought you cheated, had a secret wife or something. something to explain how you just left, left us.”

“there’s no one else, dove. there never was. it was just me and my past. i haven’t loved anyone since i started loving you.” loving. as in present tense. you locked eyes with him, tears drying as you cleared your throat.

“loving?”

“loving. i’m a better man now. let me show you, please.” he stood up, offering his hand to you to help you up. you stood up and he didn’t drop your hand, instead giving it a short squeeze. simon was still as breathtaking as he was the day he left, even more now with more wrinkles and scars on him. he was cool and confident, and suddenly you wanted to know everything about this new man in front of you. the one who insinuated he still loved you. the one who shattered your heart and was here three years later, offering to mend it with bare hands and that damn british accent. 

“coffee?” you waited, long enough to make him itch. just to get back a little.

“okay.”

[lostintranslaation]

Can’t shake the thought of Zelda slipping into a depressive episode after the Calamity… she never thought she’d live past the Calamity to begin with and yet, here she is, in a Hyrule she doesn’t recognize, and everyone she knew and loved from before is either dead or Changed. She Knows she should be happy but she just. Isn’t. She’s aimless, trying to fall into step with Link who’s trying his best to fall into step with her and it just. Doesn’t work.

And then Link, after the events of totk is just a reeling mess. He’s just defeated the incarnation of evil for the second time in his life and he’s so tired. He’s been running on adrenaline and anxiety for the past year, after waking up in a strange place after being in a coma for six plus months. He’s doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, doesn’t comb his hair or shave and the villagers in his hometown don’t even recognize him, or maybe it’s that they don’t recognize him alone, without his second half. He sets out to slaughter the demon king or die trying because he can’t stand the thought of Zelda’s sacrifice being for nothing. When he survives the battle he’s surprised, but not nearly as surprised as he is when Zelda rematerializes in front of him and then they’re falling again. He dives for her and clutches onto her, curls himself around her as they hurtle to the ground and if they die like this at least he got to hold her one more time. But they don’t die, and he didn’t die, and she’s not dead. They’re alive, they’re alive, and what are they supposed to do now?

And now Zelda has a new lease on life, her researcher’s brain fueled by all the new experiences she’s just had and people she’s just met and the fact that she’s back, she’s back in a time she knows and she’s back with Link who won’t let go of her hand anymore. He tries to sleep but he just sees her fingers slip out of his grasp over and over and over again. She wants to adventure and see and do and experience and live, but all Link can imagine doing is hiding the two of them away in their Hateno house and barricading the doors before the next great evil comes to steal their peace again.

[hlficlibrary]

✤ Slow Burn ✤

A series of posts with the top five fics of each category by kudos plus five more hidden gems from that category! Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

- Top 5 H/L Fics -

1️⃣ Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics {M, 113k}

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

2️⃣ got the sunshine on my shoulders by @hattalove {E, 124k}

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

3️⃣ Collision by itjustkindahappened / @tequiladimples {E, 226k}

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

4️⃣ Flightless Bird by audreyhheart {E, 97k}

AU where Louis Tomlinson is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival from ballet school, moody dance prodigy Harry Styles joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late?

5️⃣ Shake Me Down by @agreatperhaps12 {NR, 208k}

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

HIDDEN GEMS:

💎 This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere {E, 149k}

Maybe in another universe he isn’t different. Maybe he hadn’t been given an impossible choice. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost everything and broken everything and then fallen impossibly, irrevocably in love with the first next thing that was kind. Maybe in that universe he doesn’t feel like he’s never breathing, always pretending, teaching the kids even though they all have to learn alone, trying hard not to read the headlines, and so afraid, every day, that he won’t be a good enough teammate to the superhero he can’t live without. He knows that love isn’t supposed to feel this way, slid secret under your skin like a surgical razor, an invisible war held close over the tender vein that keeps you alive. On the other hand, Louis wonders, had he ever known how to do it any other way?

Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside.

But this isn’t that universe.

//an X-Men AU.

💎 ghost of you by beckywritesthings / @beckydoesthings {E, 109k}

As a rule, Mandalorians and Jedi do not get along.

So when Harry Styles, esteemed Jedi Knight, finds out he has to work with the hot-tempered Mandalorian Duke, Louis Tomlinson, he’s prepared for it to go poorly. But it doesn’t, testing both of their boundaries of what they deem acceptable for a partnership.

It’s the start of something, and as the galaxy dissolves into war, they find themselves clinging to each other, even as it drags up things better left in the past. As it turns out, nothing between them has changed.

Or, a Star Wars AU where Harry is Obi-Wan, Louis is Satine, and somehow there’s a love story between the cracks where there shouldn’t be.

💎 don't be afraid to love (and love again) by localopa / @voulezloux {T, 83k}

All Louis’ life, he’s known he’s been different. There’s always been something at odds about how he felt.

As the eldest daughter of seven kids, he knew something was wrong with his body. Something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His mum dressed him in dresses and tights, plaits in his hair as he wandered around with the local neighborhood boys. They called him a girl, called him she and Rosemary when his name is Louis. He had told the boys as such, but they would tell him Louis is a boy’s name, not a girl’s.

Louis is a boy. He knows he is.

or the one where louis is trans and afraid, harry is cis and brave, and being 100% yourself is easier said than done.

💎 Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me) by @lululawrence {NR, 83k}

The summer before Louis and Gemma's senior year of college was supposed to be their last big hurrah before they graduate college and become Real Adults in the workforce. They had it all planned and it was going to be filled with mornings skateboarding, afternoons at the pool, and evenings hanging out with as many of the neighborhood kids they grew up with as they can.

Of course, Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost and Gemma is worried about him. To help both of them, Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again.

As the summer goes on, the adventures and day to day happenings allow Harry and Louis to spend a lot more time together than either of them ever anticipated and Louis finds it more difficult to keep his growing feelings in check than he ever thought it would be. After all, there wasn't a chance that Harry would ever be interested in Louis... right?

💎 When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap / @antidotetogo {E, 79k}

“Louis, what do you have to say about how last week ended?” the reporter asks. There’s a moment of silence. Harry is looking at the reporter, but eventually gives in and looks down the table at Louis. He’s looking straight ahead, as if Harry isn’t even in the room. “If you can’t take the heat, then get out of the kitchen.” Harry leans forwards, placing his arms on the table and leaning onto them to get as close to his microphone as he can while looking at Louis. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Louis turns to him, his icy blue eyes meeting Harry's. “Driving is your fuckin’ job, act like it.”

In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen.

aka the one where Louis and Harry are childhood friends to enemies to lovers over the course of 15 ish years.

[vampiretendencies]

come out and haunt me, i know you want me — jj maybank࿐

summary; putting words in jj’s mouth after an unexpected pregnancy has you uneasy about the future of your relationship along with a gnawing emptiness of what jj will think. warnings; pregnancy, one mention of throwing up, suggestive, talks of sex, fluff, all of my characters are always aged up but they had to be in school for this so i set them in high school, as seniors, making them 18. this takes place somewhat in season 3, except JJ’s house never got the eviction notice and they went back to school. also mention of luke. did it this way cause i felt like i was i need of a new setting other the chateau (rip it will be missed :/) pairing; jj maybank x fem!pregnant!reader authors note; decided to put this one out, as i have gotten a lot of requests about dad!jj and i’m giving them a separate masterlist of their own. i figured they needed to be in order lol. so i guess in a way this can be considered the first of dad!jj series. cred to gif owner !

You’re spiraling over the life forming inside of you and JJ—oddly enough is fretting about his class project final. Something that would usually be of no concern to JJ, but he actually wants to pass senior year.

Building an ancient, time-consuming model of some old landscape and having an actual child were two completely different things. From opposite worlds and of varying natures.

Spontaneous cravings all the way down to a late period.

It’s instinct really, to skip school and confirm your suspicions— though, it’s pretty much certain. JJ caught on half way throughout the school day, so wrapped up in this project that he hadn’t noticed you slipping away. Sneaking out of the exit door after throwing up rancid lunch. If he was aware, there’s not a doubt that he would have followed. He was the one that showed you that escape route from the hell site on a monday long ago when school was too much to bare— that was when the two were freshmen, for now they are seniors carrying the weight of the future on their shoulders, including the plus one in your belly.

You’d sobbed profusely into your knees, they were pulled all the way up to your chest on that tiled floor. The detrimental pregnancy test, with two lines, is sat atop JJ’s bathroom counter, taunting you in a manner of ‘now you have to face me.’ Debating whether or not to take this as life altering or life shattering. You knew JJ like every crevice in the palm of his hand, but you could never be set on his reaction for something like this. Always prominent in his ways about 'being in this for the long run', could having a baby change that?

You had to tell him, there was no other way around it. For it's always been a do tell promise that nothing goes unsaid in the relationship.

"What the fuck am I gonna' do?" Is all that curses past your lips repeatedly through choked tears.

The tears are not for the tiny being inside you; its fear. The fear of the unknown, or the uncertainty. So young, so much ahead. A small sliver of a thought that maybe you'd have to do this alone.

Your heart almost falls to the heals of your feet at the doors opening and closing, and the throwing down of book bags. Shakily pressing your finger to the phone that's beside you, the time reading 2:30 PM, meaning school was over and you'd have to get your act together to face JJ. Whom, had left you several missed calls and text messages concerning your whereabouts. Even so, it would be of no surprise to JJ that you were here; basically, here every day and home when you had to be, that's how the story goes. It's imaginable that you'll be sticking around as often as you'd be able to, because telling your parents would indefinitely make them disown you. Having a baby with the Luke Maybank's son and the towns 'well-known kleptomaniac' wouldn't exactly be music to their ears. The only positive in that picture is that Luke's not around, you and JJ have been slumming it in his childhood home since. You'd helped him fix it up so that it would be 'livable', and he adored that someone would cherish him that much to do such things. He'll have another form of adoration, soon enough though.

"JJ, a beer is not gonna' help you get this shit done."

You could hear John B mumble at JJ, and as it would to most curiosity strikes. Taking in the push and pull of the standard refrigerator, not far away, the bathroom, kitchen, and living room all but feet away from each other. Easy access to eavesdrop and hear whatever words were to slither out of someone's mouth. God, you swore the walls were bound to cave in and topple atop of you. You picture John B's mouth agape and disgusted at JJ's lack of focus.

"Get's my brain goin', y'know."

His voice that you'd usually get giddy everywhere from hearing, is now taunting you; making your insides turn to mush. Quick to your feet, you clamp your ear to the chipped door whilst fixing your disheveled hair in the mirror, by tucking it behind your ear and wiping away the salty tears with pad of your thumb. Something JJ would do impulsively. As well as, the little pink and white stick that's knocking the breath from your lungs and tucking it in the back pocket of your printed shorts.

"You ready to start?" John B sighs exasperatedly. Aware that his best friend is never prepared for anything. You aren't sure of what they are 'starting' but you can't help but wonder if JJ's caught on, if he's noticed the tendencies you've acquired since becoming pregnant. Already being hesitant on telling him of the stick you peed on, or that this is going to dictate the course of the rest of his life. Is the new formation of hormones within you causing you to twist words or is it plain truth?

One could only hope.

"M'not even ready yet, need to do so much stuff before I'm ready."

It stings; like multiple daggers had been chided at your heart or a million bee's attacking. This only makes since that he's referring to not wanting to be a father, right? What else could he possibly not be ready for? It's assuming, it's jumping to conclusions, but right now it makes a hell of a lot more sense than anything else. JJ's capable of eons of things, being stuck with you and a baby for the rest of his life may not be in his peripheral. He's confirming it right now, you just heard it with your own two ears.

Unbeknownst to you it was a about a damn silly school project and that he would've stretched time and space to keep his profound little family in one piece. If only he'd known. If only you'd told him.

There were no supplies, no class instructions, to justify that it was only a monumental historic copy for Mr. Sunn's class. Just conversation.

You physically can't allow the words to come out of your mouth, for it will be in the form of word vomit after his resonating and everlasting statement. You can't face him, no, not about the life he helped form. Too soon, and too much. Selfishly, he's not ready but you want to hang onto him a little longer. With JJ is where you reside, and you desire to bury the love he's giving you and harvest it deep down; enough for two. He's not prepared, and all you're hearing is this is this the end of all you've ever known.

World record for misunderstandings.

John B was on the verge of speaking, yet he doesn't when the bathroom door creeks open. You appear in frame, a shell of the person you were moments ago, unevident that you'd shed enough tears for a small river. The hiding is beginning, you decide to swallow it down and keep it there. Dreaming up all the ways you'd have to conceal as huge a secret as this.

Trepidation; of JJ, and for yourself and the baby; blistering, mirroring that of an open scar.

"Is that my girl?!"

You're met with John B sprawled out on the vacant leather couch, another thing Luke destroyed alike with JJ. And, JJ's practically jumping from the recliner and swarming you in a hug that makes you form a half enticing grin whilst smothering you into his large chest. His sleeveless arms bulking in size at this gesture.

"Great, now we really aren't gonna' get anything done," John B grabs at his temples in annoyance. The partnered project supposed to be the focus of today. Conscious of the fact that anytime you are around JJ loses all logic because you become the center of attention. As if half his brain flies out the window he's so invested in you, rather than anything else. He gives up on any aspiration that this replica will be finished. You still saunter on about what exactly they 'have to get done', but they are almost always up to something. JJ's out of context words were what gave need be, and you were fixed on that.

"What happened today? Been thinkin' about you like crazy."

"Nurse sent me home."

You fib so harshly that is burns past your lips, the lie is so loud you're amazed he didn't see through it. You mumble into his chest has him releasing you, only to cup your cheeks in a squishing manner. He’s disastrously anguished to maul you with affection, but he decided to spare John B the show.

"Everything alright?"

And he tries to read your wandering eyes, but still taut eye contact is there so he thinks nothing of it. It is when you won't look at him that he's concerned, however you still do.

An 'act normal' practically engraved in your thoughts. When you really want to break away from his hold and run for the hills.

"Just a bad lunch."

"Yeah, that school meatloaf'll get you, baby."

Blonde fluffed out tresses catch glance and your mixed up mind is pondering on what color hair the baby will have. Will the small child be a constant reminder that their dad 'wasn't ready?" Stood together in the open space of his connecting hallway, you'll look back on this in utter agony.

"She told me to rest."

You mutter it softly whilst JJ has a stupid lovesick grin plastered on his face, peering down at you like you are his lifeline. And you're peering up at him, with a small glint and awareness that he'd be gone with the wind when you reveal the surreptitious unknown.

"Want me to come with you? I'll have this wrapped up in like ... five minutes," he's eager that you'll say yes, mustering a middle finger at John B who is sighing in vexation. What he would give to pass senior year, John B fully know's he'll have to beg Pope to do this for the both of them.

It's an immediate no, he's 'not ready', therefore a cuddle is the last thing that needs to happen. Maybe if you wouldn't have eavesdropped you could've just lived in ignorance bliss.

Though it was never the truth.

"No!," you somewhat interject, keeping the cause of all this in mind. "No J, m'really tired, finish what you were doing yeah?"

His grin immediately falls to a pout, he can't force you if you won't let him. Instead he says nothing, shaking his head 'yes' with knitted eyebrows. Pulling your cupped cheeks in closer to feather multiple light pecks to your hairline, each one more eternal that the last.

With recollection that you'd be gulping down this hard to swallow pill on your own.

Coping; all you can manage to do.

Between punching multiple hard to find holes in your bedroom walls and covering them up with posters to gut-wrenching, pillow-screaming whimpers.

How does one ever truly 'get ready' for bringing a new life into this sought out world?

You'd been wallowing in the despair of having to be both a mother and a father, with JJ saying such things— it's nearly certain he'll be out of the picture.

Alike with you, avoiding him on any given occasion.

Saturdays were date night and he consistently topped the last date, because even if schedules weren't aligning throughout the week he'd have that day to make it up to you, how ever he saw fit.

You ditched.

Texting something about, 'parents are on my ass, can't come tonght.'

On all occasions you found a way despite your parents thoughts, so JJ's suspicion is growing like immovable fire.

With that being said, a day later, he was secure in providing you with a loving semi-guilt trip, along the lines of 'if you don't come over tonight you are confirming that you don't love me anymore,' with a dauting smiley face.

Such a baby, unfortunate that he's not prepared for one because they would've gotten along just fine.

The reasoning behind why you are hopelessly distant from JJ in his twin sized bed. He's grumbling and mumbling after you pushed him away with a 'm'too hot right now.' Blankets thrown about in such a dimly lit room, his vivdly colored TV played a miscellaneous movie whilst his bedside table lamp joined in with its yellow toned rays.

His arms behind his head, colliding with the headboard in such a sensous way, shirtless figure scanning yours in yearning. Jesus, he just wanted to delve into your skin.

How could he ever resist you.

If he can't consume you with his fondling embrace, he will caress what's in reach.

Touching hard on his thoughts, whilst the likelihood of raising a baby on your own is arising in yours.

It's roaring loudly, along with the reality that you hid it from him.

What would've been the right thing to do?

A wash of panic prods, with JJ's lingering touch now against your skin. His digits dance like clockwork, ghosting your inner thigh. Before you can even retch out a 'stop' he's beneath the material of your old Bait Shop t-shirt that he lended you. Palming the skin expertly, and while he's at it he inches closer with his breath thick against your ear. Your mouth ran dry, lying still and flat in awkwardness, prying your focus on the random film. The small twin bed not giving you enough time or space to come up with another excuse.

"Missed you so much."

His voice is raspy against your ear, igniting every filament of your body that belonged to him. The hold he had on you, sickening and you are conversant with what's about to leave his mouth.

The more he keeps circling, and clinging to the small mound of your stomach, the more his mind goes blank. It had this particular bludge to it and he can writhe it beneath his fingertips. Horror fills your irises, whilst a bewildering form of fascination filled his.

There's no right way to ask as woman if their stomach has gotten bigger or if they've been eating more. That's like asking to get beat with a bat. You just don't.

JJ has foraged every unreachable portion that molds you and that ... that wasn't there.

That undeniable little Goddamn baby bump wasn’t there.

He’s studied you inside and out, and that just wasn’t there.

It’s freshly shaped and growing with glee.

His repeated motions are coming to a halt and they pause directly in the middle. Feeling for what he deemed this to be.

What the fuck? It runs rampant in his mind— not negatively he just doesn’t know what to think, how to say it, or how to not come off as a complete dick by asking what he’s about to ask.

“Your belly is more round than usual.”

Merely thought out, and not too harsh. Just stating the obvious at the rounded baby bump that’s colliding with his calloused ring-clad fingers. The entirety of his large hand sprawled out in separated fingers. He sits straight up, hairs on the nape of his neck screeched outwardly.

“M’ a bit bloated.”

You don’t take his words to heart as it’s obviously not from that. You smile, lying through your teeth once again. And JJ senses it, this is as pregnant a stomach if he’s ever touched one. His hands fall backward, beaming down at you in longing that you’ll change your answer.

“Bloated baby? That’s— that’s not … bloated.”

There’s no interest in continuing on with this facade he’s felt it, he’s not a complete idiot. What informed John B of chants wickedly and is beckoning you not tell him. You’ve found you way back to his room with reason, so what’s the use in hiding it anymore. The bump would’ve become more noticeable anyway, you couldn’t have gotten away with it forever.

“M’pregnant J.”

You are seated upward now, facing him whilst reaching for his large hands to take them into your smaller ones. Shared hands, facing eachother in criss crossed stances on that same old twin mattress. He shakes his head back in forth in disbelief— how is this real?

“W-what?! When did you find out? How?— shit. I mean I know how … there was the time in the bathroom at the Wreck … and that one time in the twinkie … and-and let’s not forget about the time in the kitchen-“

“J, that’s not important right now, focus.”

You remind in interruption, nagging off his antics about the shared sexual rendezvous. The only only thing … the only fucking thing JJ feels right now is sheer euphoria at the moment he gets to meet the little baby.

Always envisioning of being a father and giving his children all the love he had stored away from the beckoning of Luke. The love he got from his father was convenient love, and after every fight his dreams of the future family he could have grew tenfold.

“We’re having a fuckin’ baby?!”

The fact the you didn’t tell him beforehand is in the back of his mind, but he’s overlooking it in sheer elation. Joy for what’s to come. For even that promise to tell each other everything is not enough to ruin this moment for him.

“Yes, J.”

“Let me see!”

He’s anxiously lifting the bottom of the shirt up, revealing a plump baby bump purging outwordly. And a toothy shit eating grin is plastered on his sweet lips, awe is evident and he’s stricken with amazement. You couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, a better lover. Breezing past the part of him not being ready, because clearly you read into things too deeply if this is his truthful response. And it is, it’s so genuine you feel it in your bones. As he’s colliding his hands with your stomach once more, and connecting his lips with yours in celebration. Molding and mixing them together with ease, an effortless depiction of besot.

If only he could frame this and let it drift on for eternity.

“Carrying our baby so perfect, pretty girl.”

Letting this little heavenscent angel inside of you be a reminder that misunderstandings are a bitch.

reblog to support your favorite writers | © 2023 IDCNTLIKEDARNKNESS

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series) 

chapter six: 24

Pedro Pascal x plus size F!reader 

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size afab reader, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, swearing, age gap (24/14 years), descriptions of the female body, use of the word fat, descriptions of a bigger body (stretch marks, cellulite, rolls, etc.), descriptions of nudity, sexual themes. 

Please let me know if I missed anything! Warnings may change as the story progresses. 

chapter summary: y/n tells Pedro the truth. 

authors note: Hi everyone! This chapter is a little rough, but it's done lol. Also, what do you guys think about the length of the chapters? Do you want them longer, shorter, the same length? Let me know! I believe they're average 1.5-2k words as of now. Enjoy! :)

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“BITCH, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!” 

You had spent the last thirty minutes catching Angie up on the newest details of your escapades with Pedro and all of your doubts that came with it. It has become really common for Angie and yourself to go weeks without seeing each other, only sending each other texts here and there or the two of you discussing work stuff when necessary. When both of your busy schedules finally aligned, the two of you immediately set up a ‘catch up and gossip’ sesh on your living room couch. 

“Please stop yelling. I’m one noise complaint away from being evicted because of you.” You sigh only half joking. 

“Sorry sorry. I’m just… okay wait let me gather my thoughts for a moment.” She takes a sip of her iced coffee and she's staring just past your head at the wall behind you. Your leg is bouncing at a record breaking pace. You told her everything, not skipping a single detail, and you were hoping whatever came out of Angie’s mouth next was positive. You weren’t exactly sure why you were so nervous to hear what she was going to say. Maybe you wanted some confirmation that what had been happening between you and Pedro wasn’t crazy, that you weren’t in over your head. 

Angie had always been better at relationships than you and understandably so. She was naturally beautiful, it baffled you how someone could even be born so blessed. She was about 5’4, with ginger hair that went down just past the middle of her back. She has this perfectly white smile that hid behind her perfectly plump lips with light freckles scattered along her cheeks and shoulders. Her loud and outgoing personality just solidified just how easily likable she was. You used to envy her but she was never competing with you. She was the kindest soul you had ever met and she stood beside you always. You knew whatever she said was probably what was best for you. She was the definition of a girl's girl. 

“Okay okay... so you’re telling me that he came to see you on his day off, the two of you messed around in your trailer, he asked you to come over, and the two of you didn’t fuck?” She says as she finally snaps back into reality. 

“Angie oh my fucking god… how many times do I have to tell you that we didn’t have sex.” You’re starting to feel hopeless. You had asked her for advice and shes done nothing but annoyingly ask if you and Pedro had fucked since the moment you mentioned that the two of you basically dry humped each other for a good five minutes in your trailer.  

“Can you please be serious for five minutes and actually help me? I’m freaking the fuck out. Everytime I’m with him all of the worrying goes away but once I’m alone it hits me like a fucking truck.” You’re begging her at this point to put her dating expertise to use. 

“Okay fine, I’m sorry.” She says sincerely and you let out a faint thank you. 

“So he said something about wanting to take you out?” 

“Yea, um, he mentioned it when he was asking me if I wanted to stay over. It wasn’t anything set in stone but he did mention like dating and stuff so I don't know…” You trail off, really unsure of everything. 

“I think you’re overthinking it babe. If he didn’t fuck you, he definitely respects you and wants to have something more with you, ya know?” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so. He’s a good one y/n, I can feel it in my bones.” You give her a small smile. 

“You should totally introduce me to him though so I can really double down on him.” She grabs your hands from your lap and looks you in the eyes. 

“It’s all going to be okay, okay? In the end, he's just a man y/n. Besides, we can jump his ass if he plays you.” She squeezes your hands and gives you a tough nod. 

“But that’s the thing Ang, he’s not just a man. He’s my older, insanely hot co-star, who still doesn’t even know just how young I am.” You huff and shove your face into your hands. 

“Y/n, you haven’t told him?” She’s giving you a look you’re not familiar with. 

“No…I tried but work stuff interrupted me and that was before he kissed me” 

“Hm… well I think you should for sure tell him sooner rather than later, but don’t worry about it too much, yea? I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

“OH fucking shit, fuck fuck fuck…HOLY SHIT..” 

Swears were flying from your mouth left and right as the wax lady ripped more and more wax off of you taking each hair follicle with it. With your intimacy training coming up soon, you had to prepare by being silky smooth on all body parts that have a chance of being on camera- which was basically your entire body for this shoot. You’ve been through this same process many times before but something about this felt different. You knew that this project was bigger than anything you had ever done before but somehow you being naked on camera for millions to see wasn’t your biggest fear right now. 

Once your appointment was over and there wasn’t a hair left on your body, you were speed walking home. For some reason you always convince yourself to walk to the wax studio due to the close proximity to your apartment, but you always regretted it once your skin was begging for some sort of soothing distraction from the pain. Even with the loose fit of the skirt you were wearing, commando at that, you could still feel the irritation growing stronger. Your thighs were beginning to rub together in a way in which you knew you'd have to slather vaseline between your legs just to prevent any further chafing. 

After your long ass hike (a ten minute walk) through the depths of hell (it was 80 degrees with a breeze), you finally made it home. You walked straight into your bathroom, stripped, and hopped into a cold shower. You scrubbed your body with a vanilla and coconut body wash, being extra careful when you got closer to your fresh brazilian wax, and washed your hair. When you finished showering, you lotioned up, dried your hair, and laid down in your bed to relax. 

You planned on bedrotting and watching tik tok for the rest of the day but you couldn’t shake the thought of what Angie had told you earlier today. 

Sooner rather than later…

*hey! I was wondering if you’d want to hang out sometime soon? :) 

You sent the text and threw your phone across your bed. It’s been a few days since you slept over at his house. After you agreed to stay, he offered the guest room, but with all of your courage -mostly sleepiness,  you asked to sleep with him. The next morning you were wrapped in his arms, soft snores in your ear. His hand was holding yours and you laid there memorizing each crinkle of his knuckles, staring at the tattoo that sat between the webbing of his thumb and index finger. You kept trying to imagine how he looked when he was sleeping, wondering if he had a peaceful look to him or if the wrinkles in his face relaxed. Not being able to hold off any longer, you turned over so your mind wouldn’t have to imagine anymore. You were right. He looked like the definition of peace. His hair was a mess, his mouth ajar, eyelashes resting beautifully on the underneath of his eyes. Pedro was the most handsome man you had ever seen, you were sure that you could have fallen in love with him right then and there. 

Pedro:

*Hey baby. I’m done filming around 9 tonight. I can come pick you up and we can grab some food. 

*Sound good? 

You:

*sounds good. see you later <3

Another late night with Pedro. You’d unconsciously have been reserving nights just for him. When the sun was up, you worked, saw friends, handled whatever business that needed to be dealt with, but the night was strictly for him. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was purposeful or completely accidental that the two of you seemed to meet when the moon was out. The next few hours leading up to seeing Pedro would be hell, you were certain of it. Knowing that everything that has built over such a short time period could be washed away and you would have to awkwardly deal with him on set, somehow ignoring the strong feelings that you were beginning to hold for him. You were really hoping that Angie was right. That he would somehow be totally cool with the whole 24 year age gap thing, but you knew deep down that just wasn’t likely. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

It was 9:30 and you were pacing around your living room waiting for any sign of Pedro. You’ve been anxious all evening and now that the time to see him has come, you weren’t ready at all. A soft knock on your door makes you come to a halt. Walking over to the door, you peer through the peephole to see Pedro- who looks so good it makes your jaw drop. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door. 

“Hey sweetheart.” He greets, smile beaming. You open the door wider, allowing him to step inside. 

“Hi..” Your voice comes out softer than you intended, anxiety seeping through your body. “Uh, let me just grab some shoes and my bag then we can head out.” You walk towards a small coat closet to grab your checkered vans. “You can take a seat if you want, I'll be right back.” He gave you a nod and walked over to the papasan chair that sits in the far corner of your living room. Meanwhile, you were in your room freaking out. Seeing him was a hard slap in the face. You knew you had to tell him tonight before feelings developed and someone got hurt, but who's to say that won’t already happen tonight. 

You felt like shit and you definitely looked it. Grabbing a small purse, you spray some perfume on and make your way back to the living room. 

“Ready to go?” You ask, putting on a small smile, hoping Pedro couldn’t see through it. He returns the smile and stands up. The two of you make your way to his car, stopping once outside to lock your door. 

“So, what’re you hungry for?” Pedro asks while putting his seat belt on, you do the same. 

“Whatever is fine with me, I'm not too picky.” 

You ended up grabbing some mcdonalds and parking in some random parking lot to eat and talk. He was being so sweet to you, complimenting you every few minutes, a smile never leaving his face. He was truly your dream guy, he was everything you could ever want. You were terrified that you were going to lose it all. You hadn’t been completely yourself all night and Pedro was starting to catch on. 

“You okay baby? You seem a little off.” He’s looking at you, eyes filled with concern. You don’t answer him right away. You’re trying to find the best way to go about telling him. You were 24 but you were an adult and you hated that this age gap was such a big deal. You had never been into the idea of dating an older man but then Pedro came around and changed everything. For you, it wasn’t a life changing idea, but for Pedro, it could very well be career ending. If he was seen with you and people found out just how young you were compared to him. This whole relationship, or whatever it is, was doomed from the start. Your leg is bouncing, a regular occurrence around Pedro it seems. 

“P…I need to tell you something.” You’re looking down at your hands, unable to look him in his eyes. 

“What is it sweet girl? You can tell me anything.” His voice is filled with nothing but sincerity and you can physically feel pain from your heart slowly breaking. 

“I’m not actually 35…” You’re still not looking at him, silence fills the air. You’re waiting for him to say something but he never does. You look up and his expression is unreadable. 

“Okay…How old are you then?” From the sound of his voice, you can tell that he is confused. 

“I’m 24.” You’re looking in his eyes searching for any rapid change of emotion. Your leg is still rapidly bouncing, heart pounding. 

“What?” 

“I’m 24, well i’ll be 25 soon but yea…” 

“Jesus fucking christ y/n…” He’s shaking his head and running his hand over the slight stubble coming in on his chin. 

“Are you mad at me?” You ask. You sounded so pathetic right now, but it’s all you could muster up. 

“I’m not mad.” He’s staring at you. Relief flows through your body and you start to relax. 

“Why did you lie to me?” His voice is raised slightly causing you to wince slightly. 

“I didn’t mean to lie to you P, I swear. My um…my agent, Angie, lied about my age to book the audition. It wasn’t something I did intentionally, well it wasn’t something I did at all.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” A look of hurt present on his face. 

“I just never thought to bring it up. I mean we were just hanging out then you kissed me and everything changed. I tried to tell you at the skating rink but we had to head to the floor and I swear I've been trying to find a way to tell you but I was so scared to ruin whatever we have going on here. I really like you pedro…”  

“I really like you too y/n, but you’re so fucking young. I mean I’m about to be 50, I can’t be screwing around with a 24 year old.” 

Your heart drops. You can feel the tears starting to well up before a few fall against your will. 

“I’m sorry.” You're looking down again, trying to hide your tears from Pedro. 

“I should get you home.” He sighs and starts the car. 

The drive back to your apartment was quick but painfully awkward. You faced the window the entire time, letting your tears fall freely. When he pulled into the parking lot, the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes. You were afraid to leave the car, afraid that this might be the last time you get to be with him outside of work. 

“What does this mean for us?” You whisper, turning to look at him. He has his right hand still sitting on the steering wheel, while his left hand is sitting on his thigh, fingers tapping. 

“I don’t know y/n.” He’s still not looking at you, face staring out the front windshield. 

y/n.  No baby, no sweetheart or sweet girl, just your name. 

“Okay. Well um… thanks for dinner. I’ll see you on set.” Your voice betrays you, cracking on your last words towards him. He gives you a slight nod. You get out of the car and make your way to your apartment. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes and walked slowly to your room. Collapsing onto the bed, you let out a sob, all of the emotions you had been holding in finally being let free. You felt heart broken. For once you had the perfect man who saw past your weight, thought you were beautiful, and enjoyed your time. But it didn’t matter now. It was all ruined because of some stupid lie to get an audition for some stupid movie that has a stupid fucking title. You were starting to feel more angry than sad. Angry that you had even got the part in the first place, angry that Pedro asked you to hang out with him, angry that he had kissed you. If the two of you could have been professional and just be costars, your heart wouldn’t be breaking into a million pieces. Life was so fucking unfair. 

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[aimeedaisies]

On the road with the inexhaustible Princess Anne

8am 800 miles travelled, 12pm 650 hands shaken, 9pm 0 cups of tea drunk

By Hannah Furness, 9 May 2024

The Princess Royal is standing up a 42ft tower, looking out to sea in a north-westerly force six wind. Her hair, that neat up-do that has barely changed in 40 years, does not move, even as a sudden gust blows a seagull past her eyeline.

‘It’s quite exposed,’ she says, with understatement, then gets on with peppering her hosts with questions about tides, volunteer timetables and what precisely the diggers on the beach below are doing.

Outside the watchtower, her arrival in the Lancashire seaside town of Fleetwood has caused the smallest of stirs. A handful of curious dog-walkers gaze at her, camera-phones aloft, and she offers them a brief wave.

Inside, the volunteers of the National Coastwatch Institution (NCI) could not be more excited for a visit from their royal patron. The chairman, Stephen Hand, launches into a stream of compliments about the Princess’s work. ‘If I haven’t made the point clearly enough,’ he finishes, ‘we love her.’

This is her first engagement in a day that will see her travel 421 miles from Gloucestershire to Lancashire, then Merseyside, and back again via helicopter and Range Rover. It is one of 10 engagements in this typical week; she will complete about 450 this year.

‘She’s a dynamo,’ says the CEO of The Pony Club. ‘The best president imaginable,’ agrees the chairman of Carers Trust. ‘She should be queen,’ offers a member of the public. This is said at least once a day.

Not for nothing does she have the reputation as Britain’s hardest-working royal. In numbers of engagements, she and the King vie for the top spot each year. While he and the Princess of Wales have taken time off from public engagements to undergo cancer treatment, the 73-year-old Princess Royal has ploughed on with her head down, her work the definition of ‘unsung’.

Most of the time, that is how she likes it. She has eschewed the ‘rota’ system of journalists, photographers and broadcasters who cover her family’s outings. ‘I don’t go for their benefit,’ she once said of the press. ‘I go for the people who ask me.’

This week, in the middle of April, she has made an exception to grant vanishingly rare permission for The Telegraph to follow her on the road, for a snapshot of her work.

At no small effort from her close-knit team, which has accommodated me in its nomadic office, I have been allowed to document her encounters with the approximately 650 people she has met, the many charities and organisations she has put in the spotlight – and report from inside a Windsor Castle investiture for the first time.

I’ve spent seven years writing about the Royal family, travelling across the UK and the world to watch them at work, but Princess Anne’s no-fuss, no-frills team is unlike anything I’ve seen up close before. Professional and precise, she barely stops – every hand is shaken and every minute counts.

The Plan

The Princess’s diary is set months in advance. Twice a year, her office sends an invitation to 300-plus organisations she is affiliated with, asking for their requests for her time. Typically she’ll receive 1,000 to 1,200 requests a year – some suggest a visit, others ask her to write forewords to books, or ask for meetings. All are compiled into a database, arranged by date and region, and printed neatly in a book for the Princess to study. ‘[She] goes through everything required and decides what she’s going to do and when,’ says a member of the team. A planning meetings follows – and ‘once [the programme is] set, she sticks to it’.

Across the year, the Princess Royal travels the width and breadth of the United Kingdom

Her staff then go through it again to add last-minute audiences into the gaps. ‘The week is there to be filled,’ one long-serving team member tells me. ‘If she’s got a free hour and a half in London, we’ll look again to see what else to add.’

The Princess’s team is small but mighty. There’s her private secretary, Colonel John Boyd, who is fresh from 32 years in the British Army; her deputy private secretary, Commander Anne Sullivan (the double Annes occasionally cause confusion for outsiders); as well as five programme managers tasked with ironing out the exact schedule, right down to how long the Princess can spend talking to each person.

They are aided by 13 ladies-in-waiting, spread geographically, who accompany her out and about. Some of her first, who began working with her in the early 1970s, have only just retired.

‘You never quite know what she’s going to say yes to, but it’s never an outright no,’ says the long-serving team member of her schedule. ‘She’s probably been to more industrial estates than any other royal.

Monday - Estimated miles travelled - 0 (worked from home)

Hands shaken - 8

‘It’s a balance of what do the organisations want, what could she hear or learn or teach here? Every day is a school day where the Princess is concerned.’

At Gatcombe Park, her Gloucestershire home, the Princess’s assistant, Donna, welcomes a small group of eight smartly dressed representatives from the Royal Dairy Innovation Award with a cup of tea and a biscuit.

The Princess joins them once they are settled, in a homely barn conversion with framed seascapes on the walls. She reassures them that it’s ‘not going to be one of those formal events’, then starts grilling them about the Nova Scotian dairy industry and on-shore salmon farming.

Ash Amirahmadi OBE, winner of the prestigious Princess Royal Award, is there to officially collect the certificate honouring his leadership in the dairy industry. Afterwards, when the private engagement has sunk in, he tells me: ‘We had practised our formalities but she immediately put us at ease.

‘I was thinking, “How does she know this stuff, and how does she remember?” I come across eminent scientists and business leaders and not many have a better understanding of the food system than the Princess Royal.’

Ash Amirahmadi, the winner of this year’s Princess Royal Award, pictured with the Princess Royal

Before he leaves, the Princess tells him that she’ll be in touch to sign him up to deliver a speech at a conference next year.

She fits in a horse ride, dodging the worst of the day’s rain and hail she feared could be ‘painful’.

‘There’s no such thing as bad weather,’ she says later, with satisfaction. ‘Only inappropriate clothing.’

Tuesday - Estimated miles travelled - 421

Hands shaken - 200+

In Fleetwood, the wind whips across the sandy beach and the Princess Royal doesn’t flinch. She is there with a handful of volunteers from the NCI, celebrating its 30th anniversary. With an average age of 69, these are the local ‘eyes and ears’ that saved 22 people from trouble in the water last year by raising the alarm.

After a turn with the telescope, the Princess – wearing a navy-blue coat, colourful silk scarf and (the now famous) wraparound sunglasses – reaches the top of the Rossall Point Observation Tower, which looks out over Morecambe Bay, where conditions can be treacherous.

The Princess Royal inspects the Rossall Point Observation Tower

‘It really is extraordinary,’ she says. ‘Classically people say the sea is never the same, but in a place like this it really never is the same. The seasons, the bird life, the activity…’ Everyone nods.

This visit, it emerges, has little in common with most royal engagements, where guests of honour hear how things work. This has more of an air of a diligent business manager checking in on a regional branch. Nothing needs explaining to the Princess, a keen sailor and lighthouse aficionado, and she wins the approval of what could be a tough crowd with on-the-money observations about tide timings.

She speaks sparingly. Questions and remarks are formed from one or two words: ‘Since?’ ‘Previous experience?’ ‘Quite handy.’ She has a reply to everything, having travelled every inch of Britain in the line of duty.

John Bradford, who at 77 is the longest-serving volunteer, waits on the tower to shake her hand, but he is accidentally missed. The Princess is swept on to the next part of the engagement, presenting long-service awards and meeting 25 more volunteers in the nearby Marine Hall, accompanied by her new lady-in-waiting Dolly Maude, a midwife and friend of Zara Tindall who wastes no time in charming the room.

When her team discover someone has been missed out, they tell the Princess directly and Mr Bradford is whisked into the very last line-up.

‘I’m very glad you made it in,’ the Princess tells him, spending an extra few moments in conversation.

Then, plaque and certificate duties completed, she disappears to a back room where sandwiches are on offer. Ten minutes later, she’s back on the road.

It is a cliché that the Royal family thinks the world smells of fresh paint. The ground floor of the watchtower was drained of flood water shortly before the Princess’s arrival and the corridors at her next engagement in Merseyside have the distinct smell of bleach – but at the Wrea Green Equitation Centre in Preston, it is quite the opposite: a muck heap has been left intact. The hosts deem futile any attempts to fool the Princess into thinking it didn’t exist. She is, after all, a life-long equestrian.

She arrives on time; I do not. Without a helicopter, it’s impossible to keep up with her formidable itinerary.

Skipping the champagne reception and tea party, put on to celebrate 25 years of the Pony Club Centre Membership Scheme, the Princess instead strides around the yard watching the young riders and their parade of ponies.

She tours the stables and classrooms, chatting to children about horse massage and how side-saddle is still relevant for people with prosthetic legs, then she holds a presentation of commemorative plaques to 20 proprietors, each of whom has a different chat with her.

When a ‘naughty pony’ in a stable behind her unties itself to join the royal party, she is entirely unfazed.

‘She didn’t mind a bit,’ says Marcus Capel, CEO of The Pony Club – she simply carries on talking while stroking the pony’s ears.

The third engagement of the day: Sefton Carers Centre at Waterloo in Merseyside, which supports unpaid carers. Some of those assembled remember the Princess from 30 years ago, when she opened the centre. She is back to celebrate the anniversary.

Wearing a red jacket that looks strikingly similar to the one she was wearing back then (only the length and buttons are different), she hails a stream of people with a cheerful, ‘I haven’t seen you for a while,’ and, ‘This has changed a bit.’

The Princess Royal visits the Sefton Carers Centre to celebrate its 30th anniversary

Everyone is assembled in horseshoe shapes – her preferred arrangement for talking – and she ploughs on with gloved handshakes, getting through five large rooms of people. Among them are two men in their 90s who care for their wives with dementia, an eight-year-old girl in a wheelchair dressed as a princess, and teenagers who look after siblings and parents before and after school.

Some are nervous; a few curtseys are a little shaky. The Princess has a neat trick: her questions get more specific – no opinions are required, just short, easy-to-recall facts, to help ease them in. ‘Where do you live?’ ‘How long have you been coming here?’

Her own opinions are brief, delivered as common sense. On hearing that GPs don’t see the same families from cradle to grave any more, so find it difficult to support carers, the Princess says: ‘That’s part of the way people live their lives.’

She spends a few extra moments talking to the building’s cleaner, loudly declaring her ‘very important’. When one woman jokes about her long service, adding, ‘I think my face shows it,’ the Princess does an exaggerated double-take and says, ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

She has another habit, shared with King Charles, of ending engagements by turning back for one last comment, leaving the impression she wishes she could stay.

The Princess Royal cuts the cake, on the promise it will be eaten

Downstairs, she unveils her third plaque of the day. There is a celebratory cake on the table in front of her and an expectant crowd waiting. She takes control of the moment. ‘You want the cake cut? On the basis that you’re going to eat it? Otherwise it’s just vandalism.’

Before she leaves, she is presented with a large rose planter. ‘Oh my word, a monster!’ she marvels. ‘What a lovely thing… I hope the helicopter can cope.’

By the end of the day, in small heels and with the briefest of breaks, she has spoken to at least 250 people. If she’s flagging, it doesn’t show.

Wednesday - Minutes of continuous conversation - 180

Hands shaken - 140

At 11 o’clock in Windsor Castle, Yeomen of the Guard stand on duty in the Grand Reception Room, as the Countess of Wessex’s String Orchestra plays quietly. The Princess Royal moves into position, wearing naval uniform, and the orchestra strikes up with God Save the King. Standing on a dais, a red velvet stool placed in front of her, she is ready for a full day of investitures.

The Princess is one of only three members of the family who perform them and while the King and the Prince of Wales have been needed at home, she has been carrying the load.

Some 140 people will receive an honour today, among them Paul Hollywood, who is being made an MBE. The pair discussed the smells of baking, he says later. ‘She loves Chelsea buns. I did promise her some so I’m not quite sure how I’m going to sort it out.’

The Great British Bake Off judge Paul Hollywood was among those honoured by the Princess Royal

Diana Parkes, a domestic violence campaigner who has worked with Queen Camilla in memory of her daughter, is made a CBE. She finds immediate common ground with the Princess via a family member who sold her horses.

One of the large team that makes the investitures happen tells me quietly that ‘you can always tell when it’s HRH’ on duty, because the day takes longer.

In theory, the Princess has her deputy private secretary on hand to jog her memory with details about people as the Lord Chamberlain announces each name. In practice, says a long-serving aide, she sends investiture notes back with her own comments about where she has met people before and which of her patronages they have links to. This is the case ‘95 per cent of the time’.

‘She’s got such a great brain. We often hear, “You must have briefed her really well,” but no, it’s all her. She makes it very easy in that respect.’ As each encounter winds up with a brisk handshake, recipients walk backwards to bow – desperate to get it right before rejoining their watching families. The Princess smiles at each one like they could not have performed it better.

After the 90-minute session has overrun slightly, she takes lunch in the private apartments before repeating it all in the afternoon.

Thursday - Core working hours - 9

Hands shaken - 250+

London’s Guildhall. The Princess Royal arrives via train for The Lord Mayor’s Big Curry Lunch, a City fundraiser for military veterans which has raised more than £3.3 million since it began in 2008.

To walk in as an outsider is to enter a new world where London’s livery companies (guilds dating back to medieval times) line the corridors with stalls – the Worshipful Companies of Bakers, Fruiterers, Gardeners, Pewterers and Framework Knitters are all there.

The Princess has no entourage, only her protection officers and one lady-in-waiting. She does not bat an eyelid at being escorted in by members of The Company of Pikemen & Musketeers, who wield weapons from the Charles I era and take their roles seriously.

Guests are an eclectic mix – a pearly queen mingles with barristers and bankers, alongside the military. An injured veteran in his mid-30s tells me: ‘In the Army, I’ve often been in front of high-ranking people who don’t care what you have to say at all… She’s different.’

Michael Hockney, co-chairman of the event, says the Princess is ‘very well-known and popular in the City because she’s involved in the livery movements’.

The Princess Royal greets the traders at London's Guildhall

Lunch is served on long tables. The Princess sits with servicemen and women, eating from an identical plate piled with chicken tikka masala, prawn malai, dal, rice and mango chutney.

Ballanupalli Sainath Rao, executive chef, asks if she remembers her last visit, in 2015, when she said she knew the factory of the company supplying the food and thought they could offer more variety than chicken every year. ‘Two meats and three vegetables,’ she suggested. Chef Rao added the prawn dish on that advice. ‘We had a lot of compliments.’

The Princess is plied with goodie bags, including matching socks for her and Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, her husband. On her way out, she views a small garden with artwork by children from forces families and inspects a stall from the Worshipful Company of Fishmongers (est 1272); the stallholders have been hastily restocking ice and swatting away flies as they wait in the sunshine.

‘She was saying it’s great to see the array of fish,’ fishmonger Andrew Kenny explains afterwards. ‘She asks really precise questions… It’s very disarming.’

Climbing into a waiting car, the Princess tells the organisers: ‘[I’m] not causing too much chaos, I hope.’ And then she’s off – next stop Buckingham Palace.

At 7pm, the Princess Royal walks through the ‘secret door’, disguised as a mirror and cabinet, which links the Palace’s private rooms to the White Drawing Room, a State Room with a gold piano, familiar from some of the late Queen Elizabeth II’s Christmas broadcasts. Tonight, she is hosting a black-tie dinner to celebrate The Duke of Edinburgh’s Commonwealth Study Conferences, which bring together future leaders to address pressing problems facing the world. In particular, she is saluting the Canadian team, which has led the way in hosting the conferences and keeping her father’s vision alive.

The Princess Royal enters Buckingham Palace's White Drawing Room via the secret door.

Wearing a long skirt and sequinned jacket in red to match the Canadian flag, she carries a handbag under her arm and wears her late mother’s three-strand pearls. Unlike other royals, the Princess’s team won’t confirm to the press what exactly she is wearing. One suspects anyone who asked would get short shrift.

She spends roughly an hour in the Picture Gallery, working her way through a crowd. One guest tells her of her memories of a drinks reception with the late Queen and Prince Philip on Britannia, during their visit to Ontario in 1984. Asking another about their trip to London, she agrees that walking is the best way to get around, although ‘not at this time of night and dressed like this’.

Ahead of a dinner of poached citrus salmon salad, roasted lamb, and crème brûlée with poached rhubarb, the Princess delivers an eight-minute speech. At one time, she is said to have written every speech herself. Nowadays, she often works from prepared notes, which she edits ruthlessly with liberal red pen strokes and capital letters.

The conferences, she says, were ‘envisioned by my late father, but I suspect he never thought it would last this long.

The Princess Royal greets guests at the Duke of Edinburgh's Commonwealth Study Conferences dinner.

‘At the moment, in these rather difficult times – post-Covid and just generally complicated – it’s just as important to have the ability to bring people together across the widest possible range.’

The Princess will stay on for dinner, sitting at a round table and entertaining guests until long after sundown.

Friday - Minutes on feet presenting honours - 90

Hands shaken - 79

Friday morning and the Princess is back at it with an investiture. There are 79 people this time, with their families, in the Throne Room at Buckingham Palace.

Neil Constable, former CEO of Shakespeare’s Globe, is here to receive his OBE for services to theatre. He says afterwards that the ‘professional’ Princess knew the brief so well that she could make conversation about both his previous job and his next, at The Musicians’ Company. She told him she had just been to the Guildhall that week for the Big Curry Lunch, adding, ‘You’ll have a great time with them.’

‘You leave thinking, wow, actually we had a really good conversation,’ he says. ‘We talked about her late father Prince Philip being a long-standing patron of the Globe and how some of the timber from the Globe came from Windsor Great Park’, donated by Prince Philip.

‘[She] made it a very special day.’

At this point, I close the notebook that clocks in at 84 pages of shorthand. Everyone – kindly, warmly, generously – is saying the same thing, and we have run out of superlatives. The job, too, must get repetitive but you would never know it. In continually asking questions, the Princess has found a way to keep interested even after all these decades.

Princess Anne salutes at the conclusion of a commissioning ceremony aboard HMCS Max Bernays as part of Fleet Week, in North Vancouver, B.C

She treats her work as a ‘nine-to-five job’, one Palace source tells me. ‘Except it doesn’t often finish at five.’ I have barely seen her sit and haven’t seen her accept a single cup of tea while working.

The week after we meet, the Princess will be in Windsor, Shropshire, Cambridgeshire, London and Cornwall. After that, she will go from the Royal Windsor Horse Show to Canada for a three-day trip with Sir Tim.

She will be 75 next year but shows no sign of slowing down. I am half her age – and after barely a week of trying to keep up with her, I’m off for a lie down.

Weekly total

Estimated miles travelled - 818

Hands shaken - 677+

[acourtofkindness]

Thank you for sending in all the stories, here you can find the collection! Some of these are one-shots, some are longer stories, just click your way through them and also check out their other fics!

A Court of Vice and Victors

by @wishcamper Acosf rewrite where Nesta actually gets help and she and Cassian have a healthier dynamic, plus an Illyrian murder mystery

Pages Turned

by @climbthemountain2020 A character study on Nesta Archeron, the hardships she's faced through her life, and how they've shaped her as a person.

Could You Love Me While I Hate Myself

by @witch-and-her-witcher Humans have just been freed from servitude to the fae after years at war on Prythian and times are desperate for Nesta Archeron. With Feyre MIA and Elain a shell of herself, her options are becoming increasingly limited. When one of the young fae warriors, Cassian, who has carved a name for himself on the battlefield proposes to her after recognizing a mating bond between them, Nesta doesn't see any choice but to agree to take him as her husband and move herself and her sister to his home Court and the wilds of Illyria. War brings them together, a bond binds them - but is that enough for two broken people to find love with each other?

Firm and Fragrant Still the Brambleberries

by @foundress0fnothing When Nesta became a nurse at the start of the war, she could not have predicted a patient as challenging as Lieutenant Cassian Davies, nor he a nurse as captivating as her. As the same war that brought them together threatens to tear them apart, Nesta and Cassian must navigate the complexities of love and duty to find the way back to each other. A WWI historical AU.

Wreck My Plans, That's My Man

by @c-e-d-dreamer Drummer for the Bat Boys, Cassian has a large following, but sometimes Nesta doesn't appreciate fangirls calling themselves "Cassian's future wife."

It Looks As Though You're Letting Go

by @Darkcat18 (on ao3) Everyone is born with an arrow on the back of their hand which points to their soulmate at midnight on their eighteenth birthday. After her parents' disastrous marriage and her father's subsequent depression following the death of her mother, Nesta realized a soulmate is nothing more than guaranteed heartache and ruination. On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, she packs up her car and leaves her family and life behind forever. What she doesn't count on, however, is having a soulmate like Cassian, who may be the one to prove to her that a soulmate is what she needs.

I Guess It's Half Timing (And The Other Half's Luck)

by @moodymelanist Nesta and Cassian have a steamy one-night stand while out celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, but their lives are changed forever once Nesta realizes her period is late. Follow along as Nesta and Cassian navigate preparing to become parents, balancing their other life stresses, and figuring out their feelings for one another!

Amidst the Madness

by @This_Immortal_Hope (on ao3) Love and war have always followed the same rules: Quick to ignite, slow to extinguish. There aren't many things Cassian has dared to openly want in his 500 years of existence. Not even the position he currently occupies as Lord of Windahaven (far too lofty a spot for nothing more than a well-blodded bastard, if you ask the other Illyrian Lords), but from the second Nesta Archeron stepped foot in his camp, the entire world ebbed into a single truth. She is his. He is hers. Everything else - the war he is meant to lead, the people relying on him, the legacy he should be fighting to protect, cease to exist the second his eyes are caught in roiling silver flames. There is pain in this female, his female. And retribution will be exacted. Rhysand has his war, and now so does Cassian. Whether the two align ... only Nesta can give that order.

Sweetest Con

by @separatist-apologist Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before. She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

The Whole Truth

by @TheTeaQueen (on ao3) A beautifully heartbreaking story about what if Papa Archeron used/sold Nesta back in their village, and the IC learning this truth. It features Rhys and Nesta sibling bonding over their respective SA traumas. And Cassian helping Nesta to heal and feel comfortable with touch again

The Nesta Variation

by @persegrace (on ao3) A modern AU where Cassian is a military vet and Nesta is a former ballet dancer. They're both dealing with trauma, and meet in AA.

Ultima Ex Nobis

by @fieldofdaisiies Six years into a global pandemic which was caused by a mass fungal infection that turns hosts into zombie-like creatures and makes the whole of Prythian collapse, the former army general Cassian Cadell is tasked with one very special mission – escorting Nesta Archeron, one of the few immune survivors, across a post-apocalyptic Prythian to a group of people of the name L. Their identity is unknown but they can make an antidote.

you make my motor run

by @wilde-knight When Nesta and Cassian are set up on a blind date, neither of them can imagine their families feeling whole again. But with sparks flying between them, will they finally be able to imagine the road ahead?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting my friends to visit?

(English isn't my first language and this might be too long)

I (26 X) live in a different city from a bunch of friends who constantly travel here due to concerts and other massive events (think at least twice per year). I've always tried being welcoming in the past bc I too used to live in a much smaller city and wished I could attend concerts on a more regular basis, plus I've been friends with people in this group for more than 10 years, so I tend to be comfortable around them in almost any situation.

One friend (26M) from such group has recently moved in with me, and we've been roomates for almost half a year now, however I noticed the number of request to coming over and staying has exponentially increased since he moved in last year (think at least one person every two months and the number of days increasing to up to one week when previously they used to stay not more than four).

Normally, this wouldn't bother me considering that they are all common friends, but recenetly I've been going through a particular depressive episode where all I want to do is not being bothered by anyone in my own house (my roomate being the exception since I'm used to him being there) and I've been having trouble getting along with the more often visits. While adding the fact that since my friemd moved in, everyone just sort of stoped directly asking me if it was okay to stay and just asking the roomate instead and making him tell me.

I've expressed my fatigue to my roomate, along my dislike of not being considered as an essential part of the plan when other friends prepare their stay, I've been certainly feel used by them while also being aware that my depression fuels any negative feeling that crosses my way, but he and the others have reasurred me that it's just easier to bother him with such details since they know I'm not doing so well. I've agreed with their plans nonetheless thinking I could get better or just ignore them, but there's this big concert next month where a bunch of people are coming to stay for over a week and I'm just feeling overwheled thinking about it.

There is one particular case that troubles me the most as a guest, bc since other friends might just be a little draining, she (24F) and I used to be in some sort of "situationship" about a year ago that never really went anywhere and while we put some distance we did end up in relatively good terms. I've been told multiple times that I can't throw away this long friendship just because I caught feelings at some point and while I can act normal around her in public, there's just this terrible dreadful feeling of imagining her being back in my house as though nothing has happened.

The three of us (her, my roomate and I) used to be the closest from the group of friends and as such I've allowed him to invite her over (mind you, a completly diferent city) while I've been away, but can't stand the idea of her being there at the same time as me. My roomate has told both of us we ought to patch things down (so everything can be as before) but every instance we've tried to talk I've just been convinced I want her less and less inside my house.

This should be pretty obvious for me, but I've gotten to a point of avoiding my own house for weeks bc depression keeps telling me no one wants me there and I'm the problematic one while not wanting to upset my roomate (it is also his house afterall) or the other friends who keep making plans to visit, with my irritable mood and also being reminded that THEY have no problem with me and its okay if I need to take my space.

AITA if I'm considering completly shuting down all visits for a what's left of the year despite people having made plans since last year and (inderctly) telling me said plans with anticipation? I just don't know what else to do but changing most of these people plans when I'm feeling bad all the time around other people and not being able to properly express that in a way where everyone don't just think I'm a resentful toxic ex and that my problem is just with one person.

What are these acronyms?

[truly-twirls]

takeout or duffle bags? - c. beomgyu

Word Count: 1,328

Warnings: Slight food mention, Relationship issues idk

Characters: Choi Beomgyu, Choi Soobin

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet(?) Ending

AO3 Link

🌱🌱🌱

You wanted to leave. Right here, right now.

You couldn’t stand feeling like a shadow that he walked past every single damn time. It was insulting at this point.

There was a point in time when you truly believed that your relationship was strong enough to get through thick and thin.

Beomgyu made you believe that, anyways.

Lately, you’ve seen him maybe twice a week if you’re lucky. But that was well after midnight and you were already in bed, few words were exchanged as he fell asleep immediately after changing.

He stopped leaving notes or texts for you to wake up to in the mornings, no updates throughout the day unless he was going out of town.

To be fair, you weren’t much different. You stayed in your office several hours a day, seven days a week. It used to be due to major projects coming in where you would take the lead on. Now, it’s because you couldn’t stand to sit alone in that apartment longer than you needed to.

How the hell did we get here?

Both you and Beomgyu used to text each other often, expressing each other’s excitement to share a meal, or meet each other for multiple dates throughout the month.

Nothing is ever planned anymore. Everything is last minute, quick, and most painfully: quiet.

You yearned to hear Beomgyu’s laugh, or his teasing, just something. Anything had to be better than this standoff between the two of you that seemed to have no clear beginning nor end.

However, you were not the only one suffering. You could feel it. Beomgyu was also feeling the heaviness of the atmosphere within your two-year relationship.

Beomgyu has been shutting himself in his studio, his only company being instruments and speakers at full blast. But he was rarely able to come up with anything tangible, just simple beats or verses that went nowhere.

He felt like he was slowly trickling into a puddle far below him, unable to do anything about it but watch. Words left him any time he saw you, and he watched as what the two of you built together crumbled apart.

The other members tried to reach out and understand how he was feeling but Beomgyu gave them nothing.

He gave you nothing.

He lost the ability to go to you with his worries some time ago. He wanted to come across it again, he missed being able to.

At this point in time, it appeared that neither of you had anything else to give to each other. Just solemn silence.

“Are you two going to end things?”

That was a question you heard from the members, your friends, and quite literally anyone who knew of the situation.

Of course you didn’t want to end things, that was the last thing you wanted. And you hoped Beomgyu felt the same, but your options were beginning to disappear.

Plus you weren’t sure if your heart could bear much more of this. Very few threads still connected the two of you.

You could pack a bag. You could stay with your parents for a while. You can see how life would be like without this. Without Beomgyu.

It’s not like there’s much left to miss.

“What are you doing?”

A low voice startled you from your speeding train of thought, eyes focused on the clothes that were half stuffed into a duffle bag. You looked up to see your boyfriend standing in the bedroom door frame, with a bag of takeout food in one hand and in the other was his phone, open to the text messages between the two of you.

The contact photo was a selfie Beomgyu took of the two of you a while back, he surprised you with a kiss on the cheek right as he clicked the ‘capture’ button. Recalling that memory only made your heart ache more. How could he look at that photo and still be unable to say more than ‘goodnight’ to you?

“Y/N, what’s with the bag?” This time, your boyfriend’s voice was softer, as if he was beginning to understand what he was witnessing.

~

You were halfway correct about the photo Beomgyu had selected for your contact. He adored that photo, he looked at it more times throughout the day than he’d like to admit.

Soobin caught him today looking at the photo, he could hear Beomgyu’s sobs from outside the studio’s door.

“You’re not getting anywhere looking at their photo when Y/N is at your apartment right now. They likely miss you as much as you miss them,” The sound of the leader sitting on the couch quickly fled Beomgyu’s ears as he sighed.

“It’s all I keep telling myself. They’re right here. I can’t help but feel pathetic for being like this..”

Silence filled the room for a moment, but of course, the question weighing heavy on Soobin’s tongue was obvious.

“What exactly has been—”

“I don’t think I can give Y/N more. I am all that I can be, and I don’t think that’s enough for them,” Beomgyu covered his teary eyes with his forearm, letting himself feel the weight of the world on his chest. “I can see us being together for so long, but at the same time I can see them being unhappy and never telling me.”

Beomgyu’s mind flashed back to when the two of you picked each other up from the lowest of times, wondering if you were true to your word that you’d always be there, and that you were more than happy to do so.

Soobin sat in front of Beomgyu, resting his hands on the younger member’s shoulders. And then proceeded to shake the living hell out of them.

“Wake up!! You’ve been in this spiral for how long? You know what you can do, you know that you’re able to fix this. You’re scared, Choi Beomgyu. You’re scaring yourself into isolation.”

“I don’t think I can get them back, Soobin..”

“…You should go to them. Just sit with them, because personally Beomgyu? I think you’re running out of time,” Soobin spoke up about the very fear Beomgyu, and you as well, had been dwelling on for the past weeks.

~

The bag of takeout crinkled from how much Beomgyu’s hand was shaking. He processed one thing at a time.

There was an open duffle bag on the bed. That bag had clothes in it, your clothes. And you. You were looking at Beomgyu with desperation and guilt.

“Are you done, Y/N? Is this it? Are we done? I mean… What is this?…”

“Beomgyu.. I..” You ran a hand through your hair, huffing.

“It’s the last thing I want. But how much longer could we have done this?”

“I didn’t mean for this to go on so long, I needed time to think and.. I don’t know—”

“What did you think I needed? The silence? The isolation? I just wanted you, Beomgyu!” Tears were threatening to start rolling down your face, you just felt so angry at this point. Any other emotion was exhausted by you throughout the past weeks.

“Y/N. I’m sorry. I truly am… Do you want to talk now? Over some good food?” A somber smile met Beomgyu’s cheeks as he lifted up the bag of takeout that is likely to be cold soon.

Your mind was going between the tied plastic bags and your duffle bag, going between how you’re night was going to go.

Are you truly ready to talk about everything?

You finally met Beomgyu’s eyes, the tension was thick and the stakes were high. This was a relationship you both cherished and wanted to fix, tonight is just the first step into reaching the comforting endearment the two of you have shared for so long.

You walked up to your boyfriend, taking the takeout bags from his hands, and made your way to the living room for a late-night dinner.

🌱🌱🌱

[i-am-vita]

Oc or Self Insert/Reader Headcanons Game: Your blorbo with a wife/husband/partner from a different culture

👉 Masterlist

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Mihawk x Ghost Rose Headcanons

I'm trying to get a grip on Mihawk again after a week of Bogard writing so I came with a silly game of how would be Mihawk and Ghost Rose knowing each other as a couple after he managed to find her again.

I don't know if it's been obvious, but I want my Ghost Rose Oc to be mexican coded. I'm headcanoning that she spent all the years with her niece hidding in her birthtown at the Red Line region equivalent to LATAM (and you can't change my mind, half the Red Line is LATAM and Mexico is on the East Blue side).

Meanwhile, Mihawk is so spaniard coded it's not even subtle. That flamenco theme they came up for OPLA just cemented it. Plus, all the gloomy Dracula aesthetic... I'm headcanoning he had a spaniard-coded mother and a romanian-coded father if we take Kuraigana Island as a fantasy reimagining of Bram Stoker's Transylvania and Nightmare Before Christmas.

So this is a half-spaniard Mihawk with mexican Ghost Rose:

Everything happened so fast after Mihawk found you again, seduced you and convinced you to go away with him that it came as a surprise when, during your trip back to your hometown to retrieve your belongings, you made a comment in spanish and he answered in return.

You were still knowing each other so you had yet to talk about your respective past and families.

Hearing you speaking the language of his mother for the first time, even with a different accent, made Mihawk extra passionate and romantic towards you that day.

You tried to be as discrete as you can when arriving to your village to inform your noisy extended family (strong emphasis on extended, your father's sister took way to seriously her mother and wifely dutties having eight children) about your niece going away to her new life and you going away with someone you met.

Like that's going to keep them satisfied.

You ended staying for dinner and subjected to your father's relatives meddling.

No, you're not running away to elope, you just met and are knowing each other. No, you're NOT pregnant!

Mihawk takes it like a champ, his stoic countenance and menacing aura not enough to relent your tías from their noisy ways. In a way, they remind him of his own mother and how carefree and meddling she could be too sometimes, when his father would spent enough time away for her to feel safe again...

His ears may be ringing and his brows lightly frowned, but you can detect the smallest of smirks at the corner of his lips.

The food is like nothing Mihawk had ever taste. He do recognizes most of the ingredients, though half of the spices and definetely not any of the types of chiles he's presented with. You warn him to not believe any of your cousins anctics about the intensity of the salsas, all of them are spicy. He still takes a taste of the most spicy one. His force of will to not react to it is astonishing, but his face does turns an alarming shade of red and he drinks the tallest glass of cold water in a go.

And talking about water... There's no such thing as regular water on all the table. There're several pitchers with colorful fruity liquids that everybody insist on calling "fresh water of *fruit name*". He gives you a knowing smirk when you take a glass from the berries water. His mother had a preference for some milky like beverage that he recognizes and have a taste. The flavor is not exactly the same but its close enough to give him a bit of homesickness.

And don't make him start with the language. He was pretty sure he had a good grip of his mother's language and learnt it well enough to be fluent in it, except now he have to ask for clarification one of every ten words he hears, five if the relative in question has a fast speak.

You stay seated by his side all the time, giving him reassurance and advice, a hand on his knee, his arm on your shoulders. You take the fact he hasn't insult someone as a good sign, some of your cousins can be a pest and you have no remorse in calling them out, rudely if you have to.

As the night goes by, somebody gets a guitar out of somewhere and starts playing, followed by other instruments. You drag him to the yard to dance. The rythms are familiar and yet have their own uniqueness, so the steps, more hips' movements and closeness, that he has absolutely no qualms to follow.

You're giving your good byes when you're invited by one of your cousins to visit the vineyards he works at tomorrow. His boss would totally give you a special discount for the tour. The mention of wine is enough to hook Mihawk and he's accepting before he realizes it.

And then one of your aunts mention the festivities for the local saint start in three days. A night of loud music, fireworks and street food... Mihawk can't help to remember his mother mentioning the festivitiews of her own birthtown and he say yes again without realizing it.

It's later than he anticipates when you finally retire to the small home you lived for the past years. It's fresh and cozy, with tall ceilings and almost floor to ceiling windows to deal with the suffocating heat, wood furniture and hand embroidered fabrics.

You both were too mentally exhausted to do anything more than cuddling in bed with the minimum of cloth. You talked for hours about your families.

How you were raised in the village until after the death of your marine father at sea, your mother remarring barely a year after with a stuffy and wealthy high officer who took her and her daughters to live at the fanciest part of Loguetown. How you couldn't stand the new society you were draged to and longed for a life of your own.

How he was raised mostly by his mother at Shikkearu Kingdom (main city of Kuraigana Island before its fall), and his absent father, a soldier of the local lord.

There were still much to learn from each other, but Mihawk was set more than ever that you were it for him, and you could feel your guarded heart warming more and more towards the swordman.

And now I have to write a part 2 of them living in his castle with her new partner and her mexican quirks... and then the children arrive (aka Perona and Zoro, that will be fun). And how the Phantom Pirates react with Ghost Rose romantically entangling with the same Warlord she had to divert from the party a year ago and she had definitely not fell for.

.

.

.

@cinnbar-bun you have a beautiful culture and amazing writing, I refuse to accept idiot anons going after you for sharing it, they can come after me too if they dare!!! I won't leave you alone in this.

Moots and interested people I remember. You can participate too if you want, I would love to read your exploration of your cultures adapted to One Piece: @fanaticsnail @jintaka-hane @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @feral-artistry

[retrievablememories]

lady cab driver | seulgi (m)

pairing: chauffeur!seulgi x celebrity!fem!reader genre: smut, pwp word count: 2.1k warnings: car sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, slight power play? (employee-boss dynamic) a/n: don’t let me listen to prince songs past 12 a.m. or this is what happens. also, hurray for the first (completed) gay fic on this blog despite my years of posting...how embarrazzing. this was fun to write

sequel to this fic is here!

---

you don’t know how you’ve currently found yourself crawling between the legs of your attractive new chauffeur in the backseat of a limousine, both your clothes disheveled and hair already out of place.

or maybe you do know. all of her flirting and subtle moves over the past few months have paid off, surely, for the both of you. the way she smirks at you now as you peel up the hem of the pencil skirt that fits her so perfectly, exposing her underwear, says it all.

her chauffeur's hat has long slipped off, landing somewhere on the floor for the both of you to forget until your tryst is over. the first few buttons of her blouse are loose and bare the cleavage underneath. her blazer still hangs off one arm, forgotten in the middle of your earlier make-out. you had thought of the whole chauffeur getup as a bit silly and on-the-nose when you first hired seulgi. your past drivers hadn’t bothered with the formality of a uniform, instead wearing whatever business casual clothes they desired. but, seulgi seemed to know what effect this uniform had on women—including you—if the glowing praises from the other stars she’d driven around said anything, and so it stayed.

 it all began about a half-hour earlier, with a fairly simple statement.

“if you’re often lonely, i’m more than happy to provide you with any company you desire,” seulgi says. you stare at the back of the headrest as if that will make her see you, and when it doesn’t, you look right into the rearview mirror, but she keeps her eyes on the road. convenient for your safety, but annoying in every other way.

“do you think i’m lonely?” you ask, unsure whether you should feel offended. you’d made an off-hand comment about your frustration of not knowing who to take as a plus-one to an upcoming event, but you didn’t think it would inspire this reply. plus, you’re pretty sure this statement couldn’t be considered professional—though you could guess many of your past interactions with seulgi weren’t exactly professional either, with the barely-veiled flirting.

“you seem lonely, if you’ll forgive me for mentioning. i’ve noticed there are always other people accompanying you on your rides, but you don’t seem very moved or engaged by them.”

you sit back further against the cushy seat, like it could envelop you and shield you from view if you simply tried hard enough. “i don’t know.” you shrug. “i don’t care. i just don’t like being bothered much. i interact with people daily because i have to. nothing else to it.” seulgi hums and nods to your answer, apparently not going to push her assertion—which is fine with you. you are relieved to have quickly shut down that line of conversation because you aren’t in the mood to be psychoanalyzed today, but something inside of you is still curious. “but what kind of company are you offering, anyway, that would be different from theirs?”

“any kind you’d like. the way we’re talking right now and have been doing for months now, if that’s all you need. or anything else.” her eyes flick to the rearview mirror to look at you when she says or anything else. it’s a quick glance, but you see the rise of her cheeks as she smiles subtly, and you suddenly feel exposed.

you let a stretch of silence settle in the air between you after she says that, wondering if you want to go there—if you want to change things in this way between the two of you. a moment of cold apprehension creeps into your chest when you wonder if maybe you’re misinterpreting her meaning, but there have just been too many signs to say otherwise. the gentle way she holds your hand when she helps you out of the car, how her palm settles on your lower back to steady you when you’re balancing in those wretched high heels, the knowing glance she gives when she catches you watching her adjust her hat or the collar of her blouse in the limo’s mirrors.

“anything…else?”

“you’re the boss here, aren’t you? i merely do what you ask of me,” seulgi replies, her voice low, the words delivered emphatically.

that simple statement makes you throb, your crossed legs tensing. the promise of seulgi letting you take control of the situation… surely, over these past few months, she’s picked up on your need for having control of everything all the time. which is often framed as a major character flaw by most, but you don’t really care as long as you’re getting what you want.

you’ll be arriving back home soon, and you feel like you’ll miss your chance if you don’t respond now. If you don’t—she’ll just let you out of the car, letting her hand linger the slightest moment in yours, and you’ll go inside your big empty house, slumping onto your bed and fishing your vibrator out of your drawer once again. perhaps there will be other chances later, but this one feels like it needs to be grasped immediately.

finally, you unglue yourself from the seat, shuffling forward so you can look through the window where the partition would otherwise be raised. you lean your arms against the seat backrest and try to sound casual.

“stop the limousine, please.”

seulgi is silent for a beat, then says, “anywhere?” like she’s trying to hold back a smile you can practically hear in her voice.

“anywhere.” then you consider this. the car has blackout windows, so it shouldn’t matter, but… “okay, maybe look for a back street or something?”

back street secured, engine cut off, legs spread. you look up at seulgi with her body sprawled across the seat where you were just sitting, legs askew and face painted with anticipation. you laugh quietly at the blended stain of your brown lipstick and her own red shade on her lips; your mouth must look similar. her eyebrows furrow intensely as she watches you press more kisses up her inner thighs, leaving stark traces of lipstick on her flushed skin.

“i’ll admit, this wasn’t quite how i imagined it happening,” she says, voice already a little breathless and catching on certain words.

“how did you imagine it, then?” you ask, pressing yourself closer between where her thighs meet and pushing a thumb against the dampened seat of her underwear. you rub your thumb slowly over her clit, eliciting a low exhale from her.

“that i’d be doing all the work of pleasing you. which i still wouldn’t mind, you know.”

“what a cute way to say you’re eager to taste me, but you can have that later,” you reply, circling the pad of your thumb steadily. “right now this is how i want to solve my loneliness, since you’re so concerned about it.”

“i only want to…” her voice trails into a low moan, her body slouching when you push her underwear to the side to make room for your fingers and mouth. you delicately spread her open with one hand while pressing your mouth against the throbbing bud in a kiss. “...make you happy.”

you feel one of seulgi’s hands slide across your back, which is freely exposed to her touch from the barely-there halter top you’re wearing. the sensation sends a shiver up your spine as you push your tongue against her entrance, only teasing and not entering.

you want to ask her why, but you’re unwilling to separate your mouth from the warm and inviting space between her legs to do so. that may also be too much emotion for what’s supposed to be a quick and dirty fuck in the back of a limo, so you let the question rest and focus on finally slipping a finger into her, ears perking up at the gasp that follows. smirking at the sound of it, you allow your tongue to circle around her clit a few times before you pull your finger back out, and seulgi’s hand stills on your back.

“why’d you stop?” she asks, and it sounds like her voice is edging into petulance but she’s trying very hard to keep it from reaching that destination. you shift away, and your hands go to her hips so you can hurriedly pull her underwear down, leaving it in the growing array of strewn clothes on the floor.

“better access,” you mumble, pulling her closer by the hips and putting her legs firmly over your shoulders. her moans bounce off the interior of the limo when you bury your face back in between her thighs, pressing your tongue flat against her clit and using your finger to search for the spot that will make her scream.

you know you’ve found it when her thighs tense and twitch around your head, her voice pitching up in a new way you haven’t heard yet. you crook your finger into that area a few more times to recreate that sound, smiling to yourself at how easy it is to get a reaction. then you slide in another finger to intensify the effect, still suckling her clit all the while like it’s a sweet little candy made just for you.

“oh–y/n–” she lets out another quavering, desperate moan before biting the sleeve of her shirt, seemingly remembering you’re still technically in public and not wanting to make too much noise.

with your free hand you tug the sleeve away, stopping your actions on her increasingly sensitive core to speak. “no one’s around to hear,” you murmur, “and if they do, it doesn’t matter.”

she makes a sound that’s something like a scoff or a whine but doesn’t attempt to cover her mouth again. rather than being preoccupied with quieting herself, other things are busy calling for her attention, like the mounting tension throughout her body. the restlessness of her legs increases as she nears the precipice, and you must go back to trying to hold at least one of her legs still while your other hand asks her for more with the hurried strokes of your fingers stimulating her g-spot.

her head lolls back onto the seat and her body tightens even more, and you feel an abrupt shiver of pain from her nails raking your back—not enough to be injurious, but enough to make their sharpness known. you watch every one of her reactions, both miniscule and overt, as that glorious electricity running through her expands until it can no longer be contained, and you feel a sudden sense of pride that you’re the one responsible for it all.

she comes with a moan that, if someone were to ask you later, sounds like the personification of “overjoyed.” it’s pure pleasure concentrated in the form of her voice, and it provokes the heat between your own legs, but you ignore that to guide her through her orgasm. you continue kissing her lower lips sweetly and fingering that spot as she comes in your mouth, her hands grasping onto you for dear life and her thighs posing the continuous threat of closing entirely around your head.

it ends when seulgi cries out that she can’t take anymore and you finally pull away from her, easing up your tight hold on her leg and sliding your fingers out of her. you’re satisfied, especially when you study her wetness sticking to your fingers and subsequently suck it off, but you’re already beginning to miss the experience.

seulgi presses her hand against the window to steady herself, her chest heaving as she tries to stabilize her breaths. you sit back on your heels, your hands trailing away from her thighs, and push back some misplaced strands of your hair. you know your silk press must already be sweated out by now. “did you enjoy the ride?” you ask. you scoff at your own silly joke, rolling your eyes when you realize how corny it sounds as soon as it’s said.

seulgi sits up and places her hands on your shoulders for balance, pressing her lips on yours in the next second. you readily accept her kiss, your tongue slipping against hers as she tastes herself on you. your embrace deepens as her hand settles on your neck, the other hand finding itself at the back of your halter top and finally pulling the strings holding it together apart.

when she separates from you, her hand still on your nape and her lips a pale pink from the mere memory of her red lipstick, she says, “i’d tell you yes, but it’s not over yet.”

[cleabellanov]

Jet-Skiing through Identity: a deep dive into Mobius M. Mobius (part 5)🚤

The analyst is now going on missions, and he is doing such a great job. Plus, he's looking damn good doing it.

I think that in episode 2, "Breaking Brad" (one of my favs, like i really really love this one) , we get to see both extremes of Mobius as a character, which is great! We begin with his steady personality, looking for trouble to resolve it, not to cause it.

This is when we can see Mobius and Loki use that trust that they previously built, and working together. The comfort emanated in the scene where they're trying to fix that TemPad, for example, feels so good and natural specifically because it has background. (...and they're very, very good together. And Tom and Owen always knew what they were doing. Anyway, you get the point.)

Brad/ X-5 is a complicated person, and the others knew that when trying to get information out of him. Does that stop Mobius from trying to ease the atmosphere with one of his jokes? No: he's still running to the beat of a good heart, he can't help it. His way of being, this approach, is part of him, and we've seen that in season 1 as well.

The trigger is, however, pulled in him when Brad tells him he's a nowhere man. He usually endures things well, so what made him snap this time?

I think that hearing it out loud, AND put like that (f u brad), Mobius finally got hurt by the emotions he was trying so hard to suppress.

Distancing from that, and all the past he knows nothing about, he alienated from himself too, because they are essentialy part of him.

Saying "You're a nowhere man" to Mobius is similar to saying "What, like you did with your mother?" to Loki. It's a half truth that hurts especially because it was left in the darkness. Like someone flashing a lantern in your eyes after you've been wandering though a cavern.

We can see he uses denial too as a coping mechanism, in our most beloved scene: the pie room one. He doesn't admit it at first, but with Loki being Loki (and the person he cares the most about as well), he admits he's wrong: "Listen, that wasn't tactical. I lost it".

So it's not pride when he doesn't want to see his mistakes! it's a need to make everything perfect, for others more than for himself.

It's also no secret that Mobius finds comfort in food, especially pie. So having a sweet with Loki certainly calms him down.

Next, he tells Loki:

"The TVA is the only life I've ever known. I like it!"

and

"Something bad I can handle. What if it's something good?"

Does he really like his life there, or only the meaning of it?

I interpret him not wanting to look, not even now, for avoiding feeling guilty about leaving that behind. Maybe he even draws a parallel, and realizing that he has a life on the timeline it hits harder that so did all the people from the timelines he pruned

But also, he can't leave his mission! He can't leave Loki! Remember how in season 1 he told Ravonna that if he could go anywhere, anytime, he'd go to his place on the timeline? This changes now, when it's actually possible. A life he never known doesn't have a purpose for him. This one, though? This one definitely does.

One last thing thing I want to mention *for today* is how sweet Mobius is telling Loki that he's the God of Mischief. After years of this title being used negatively, Mobius says it as a compliment. He not only knows the comfort of touch (s2e1), but of words of affirmation too:

see you for the next part!! I underestimated how long this series of analysis would be :)), but only 2 more parts to go 💙