#soft julian hours

[adriartts]

more side character designs now to the tune of the Kil sisters

[lunastarhawk]

You show me the light in the eye of the storm

Haul away with me

[iridescent-solstice]

Thinking about how MC and Asra have been living together for such a long time that they probably spend most of their evenings unwinding together . . . Taking refuge in one another after a long day of dealing with unruly customers, thousands of hours spent making potions, Julian breaking in and also breaking a window in the process-

Both of them, Asra and mc, steal glances at one another from across the room until someone gives in . . . . Soft kisses and wandering hands that make MC feel like they’re on cloud nine. An embrace where he holds MC close and rubs their back trying to help them relax. Loosen all the knots in mc’s back so they feel less tense . . .

Imagine laying on his chest afterwards as he reads some boring magic book to you in his melodic, airy voice that never seems to waver with the amount of affection it holds for you. In these moments its all about recharging and letting the world fade away. Your focus solely and solely on him. A love that can never be tarnished nor stolen just like the heart that you two share together can never be anyone else’s.

[walkingstackofbooks]

A 9-year-old Julian Bashir who has had nightmares about evil doctors in an alien hospital for as long as he can remember. He doesn't tell his parents though because "he's a big boy now" and nightmares are for little kids, so he knows he should deal with them alone. And even if he'd like a hug sometimes, his mum only gives him hugs for doing well, not for doing badly, so he figures there's no point bothering her

A 15-year-old Julian Bashir who realises that the nightmares he used to have were based on the apparently very real alien hospital his parents had taken him to as a kid, and spends hours trying to figure out what were real memories and what his mind had made up over the years as he slept. The nightmares come back with an intensity, but they're nothing compared with how he's feeling when he's awake, and pretty soon they become a normal background noise of his life.

A 19-year-old Julian Bashir who's finally been moved into a solitary room after his third roommate in as many weeks complained about the almost-nightly screams. His advisor asks if he wants to speak to anyone: he claims they're just night terrors and he doesn't actually remember them. Besides, even if he could talk about what was in them, he probably wouldn't, because he's fine - he's used to them by now.

A 24-year-old Julian Bashir who gets woken from his nightmares by warm hands and gentle kisses, and learns what is like to be soothed back to sleep by the soft voice of Palis Delon

A 32-year-old Julian Bashir who has a different nightmare every night. The last year's been difficult. But then, it's been difficult for everyone, and he knows he's far from the only one to be suffering from nightmares at the moment.

A 34-year-old Julian Bashir who can't stop dreaming about the torture he went through four weeks ago, who's missing Ezri and who Miles is increasingly concerned about. When the O'Briens offer him their spare room for a while, he warns them multiple times about his nightmares, and is pathetically grateful when that doesn't change their minds. "We have nightmares too, Julian," says Keiko. "We can cope with yours."

A 34-year-old Julian Bashir who is confused when, three days later, Miles remarks, "You are having a bad run of those nightmares, aren't you?"

"They've been better than usual, actually," he replies awkwardly. "It's been really nice being able to go back to sleep afterwards, for once -- you and Keiko have been so generous in coming and checking on me."

"Course we're gonna come and check on you," says Miles gruffly. "You woke up terrified. We're not letting you do that alone."

"I'd be fine, Miles," Julian reassures. "I'm hardly going to expect one of you to come in every night."

Miles pauses. "...How long are you expecting to have them 'every night' for?" he asks, with some concern. "I mean, after a thing like this, how long does it usually take them to settle down?"

Julian stares at Miles. "I... have nightmares, Miles," he replies, frowning. "Just like you. Nightmares happen every night."

"No, they don't," says Miles, equally confused. "Don't get me wrong, they can do: after something big then sure, they're like that for a few weeks - a couple of months, even. But eventually they fall down to once, twice a week..."

Julian is looking at Miles incredulously. "That might be how it works for you," he says. "I guess my brain's different to yours. Mine don't stop, they just... mix. Change. Get confused with one another, eventually. I've had more dreams about being genetically modified by Sloan in the Dominion camp than I care to remember, you know?"

Miles' concern has turned into abject dismay. "You're saying you've had nightmares every single night since the Dominion took you?" he exclaims.

"Well, maybe not every single night!" retorts Julian, a little unsure what Miles is getting so het up about. "I do have some days when I don't... But yeah, pretty much. I've had nightmares most nights since I was fifteen, it's just how my brain processes stuff."

"Fifteen?"

...

A 34-year-old Julian who finds out that having nightmares every night for two decades is, apparently, "not normal" and something he should be seeking help for.

If Ezri comes back alive, he supposes he might take it up with her.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER ONE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

warnings maraye’s b*****end

May 2025 — New York City, New York

“5 minutes, Carter! You’re on in 10!” I hear my manager, Kaylee, speak from behind me. She didn’t even look up from her phone.

I’m seated backstage at The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon getting ready to go out on stage for my segment of the show. My ready room is packed. Heavy makeup cases and hair products sit on the vanity and nearby tables. My hair and makeup and stylist people moving in and out of the room to get me picture perfect.

“I’ll see you when you get off. Good luck out there, beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” I respond, feeling a soft pair of lips press against my cheek.

It’s my— I don’t even know what to call him— boyfriend, Julian. We’d been going out for a bit , no longer than around three months, but nothing had been made officially-official yet. His full head of curly brown hair tickles my eyebrow when he kisses me, bringing a flush to my already pinked cheeks. He walks out of the ready room, I assume to his seat out in the audience alongside my sister Casandra. 

My hand goes up to my cheek, up against where his lips left a sloppy mark against my makeup. My makeup artist, Tyler, swats my hand away before I can smudge what he just spent two hours working on. 

“He’s gonna ask you about him.” Kaylee’s voice cuts through the air.

“What?”

“Jimmy. He’s gonna ask you about Julian. Not directly, of course, but he’ll ask if you have a muse and blah blah blah.” Her work phone slips into the back pocket of her wind leg jeans. The click of the black heels on her feet grow louder as she approaches me. “Don’t answer, say you get inspired by a ton of things but not anyone in particular.”

My face twists up. “Why should I do that?”

Kaylee sighs. We’ve talked about this a multitude of times, and I can tell it irritates her more and more each time I pry. My career is based on sharing my most vulnerable and intimate moments with people all over the world. I didn’t mind sharing if someone had influenced my music or not.

“It keeps the interview focused on you and how amazing you’ve been so far this year. If you do that, it’s gonna be about your relationship. You don’t want that, I promise you.” Kaylee explains.

I nod understandably, but my mind thinks to the future conversation Julian and I are most likely going to have about me not claiming him publicly. A conversation we’ve had too many times for my liking, for only being a few months in.

Oh, and unofficial might I add.

The creak of the heavy white door opening pulls us out of our conversation. There’s a man in a white Polo and black slacks with a headset on. “Call time. Let’s get you out there, Maraye.” He speaks.

I nod, standing up from my seat. I quickly brush a hand over my hair, making sure that any flyaways from my jet black side part unit stay down where they should be. 

“Go get ‘em, Carter.” Kaylee encourages, rubbing my back softly and smiling her soft comforting smile.

—

“Fresh off of her first studio album release, please give a warm welcome to our next guest, Maraye!” 

The start of The Roots introduction music is my cue to walk out, and I do. The Amina Muaddi heels on my feet moving across the black stage. My dress is a nice maroon color, a sleeveless u-neck top that fits my body like a glove. 

I smile out to the live audience, waving my hand before taking a set on the blue-gray couch. The applause dies down and Jimmy looks over at me, the cover of my latest album, ‘f*** daisies' is propped up between his hands on the wood table.

“Thank you so much for having me!” I greet, crossing one of my legs over the other.

“No, thank you, for coming out! I wanna jump right into this,” he speaks. The camera pans to the album cover. “Because this album has taken the internet by storm in the last month that it’s been out.”

“Yeah. It’s been very surreal. I’ve had EP’s that have done great, but all the love on this album has been incredible.”

The audience breaks out into more cheers and applause and I feel my heart nearly triple in size.

To say my life had taken a complete 180° turn in the last five months would be an understatement. From spending last fall on tour with Kehlani, to getting my communications degree from the University of Southern California, and now the release of my album. I was truly blessed and grateful.

“What’s so impressive about all of this is that you’re only 22 years old, and you have three songs off this project that have spots on the billboard top 15.” Jimmy praises. “Out of those three—f*** daisies, SOS (Sex on Sight), and Unpredictable with your good friend Destin Conrad— which one would you say was your favorite to make?”

I take a deep breath, my eyebrows furrow with a look of thoughtfulness which makes the audience laugh.

“Probably SOS. To have Usher featured on that song was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And I’m from Atlanta, so having an ATL legend on my first project was huge.” I answer.

“Did you, y'know, learn anything from him for future music?”

“The way he works with layering his vocals was unbelievable. I think that’s why SOS is one of my favorite works, the harmonies on that song are unreal and I give all credit to him.”

“Would you say that this song had a muse? I work for the people, so I have to ask.” Jimmy teases, and I force a smile. I could just hear Kaylee’s voice in the back of my head screaming I told you so.

I shift in my seat. My eyes bounced from him, to the man I had coined my boyfriend sitting in the audience. “I use a ton of experiences for inspiration in my music. Things that have happened to me but also to those around me.” I start.

From the corner of my eye I see Julian, the red button up that covers his shoulders and his gold cross chain keeps him in my view perfectly. He moves in his seat and I just know he’s uncomfortable, or angered, or something else that I can’t really bring myself to care about with all these cameras pointing at me right now.

“So I wouldn’t say it came from anyone in particular. I probably just had a little too much wine that night.” I joke, keeping the atmosphere lively and energetic.

Jimmy laughs and The Roots play some sort of jingle in the background, both of which make me release a breath I didn't know I had been holding. 

“Well we all can’t wait for more music from you Maraye. Everyone stay tuned, Maraye will be giving us a special performance of SOS when we come back from the break!”

—

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

It’s later at night, 9pm when I finally take a seat on my living room couch. The recently rented apartment smelled like vanilla thanks to the candle Rickea decided to light while I was grabbing the pizza.

Why my teammate decided to surprise visit me when I could be resting for our season opener tomorrow night was beyond me. I thought it must be a little rookie hazing, messing me up for the first game, but I wouldn’t tell them that. 

Cameron was here too, a massage gun up near her still recovering knee. 

I scrolled mindlessly on my phone, listening partially to what Rickea was telling me about tomorrow’s plans. Some sitcom played on the tv, or a talk show. Again, I wasn’t very sure.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Rickea yelled. She dropped down on the couch, nudging me enough to drop my phone from my grasp. “Your first pro game is tomorrow! Can you act excited?”

“I am excited!” I shot back, playfully pushing her back off of me. “You’re just yelling in my ear right now, ‘Kea.”

“Ugh they grow up so fast.” Cameron speaks up. She wipes her eyes from fake unshed tears. I roll my eyes at them both. These cannot be my teammates.

“I’m older than you?”

“And yet, you’re a rookie and I’m not. Matter of fact, come massage my knee for me, rook.” 

I reach for the pillow closest to my right and throw it at her before she can even blink. Which she retaliates for by tossing one back at me.

“Okay enough! God, you guys are children.” Rickea interjects. Her hand reaches for the TV remote. “Tryna watch my friend on TV and y’all wanna act like fools.” 

“Do it at your place then! The fuck?”

Rickea pushes me towards the other end of the couch, and I huff and flop against it. Cam begins to laugh. I reach over for another pillow but she stops, raising her arms in defense.

The volume on the screen in front of me increases, but this time I play attention. Jimmy Fallon is on, and his introduction of whoever is the guest tonight cuts through the air. After a few seconds of silence that’s when I see it.

Suddenly I’ve never found a late night talk show so interesting.

“That’s yo’ friend?” I ask Rickea. And she squeals, like a schoolgirl, ignoring my question. “‘Kea?”

“Yeah, ‘Raye! Doesn’t she look so pretty?” She asks no one in particular. But I still find myself slyly nodding.

I listen intently to her voice, and how she sings the very sensual song beautifully. She was harmonizing with her background vocalists in a way that made my jaw drop. And suddenly, I’m pissed at myself for not only not having this song in my library, but also for knowing whose voice is mesmerizing me right now.

And even more than that, she’s stunning.

The lighting of the stage she sings on gives an illusion like she’s glowing. Or maybe she actually is. My eyes physically cannot leave the screen. She is in a maroon dress and just when I think I can’t be anymore enamored with the sight, the camera pans out to her entire body. 

I didn't even realize that her performance was over until a commercial cuts on. 

“Ain’t she just incredible.” Rickea cheeses at her friend like a proud mother. 

Cam agrees with her. “She’s running my playlist right now.”

“Paige?”

“Huh?”

“I said she’s good right? You like R&B, you should hop on the Maraye train.” Rickea teases and I think that she didn’t pick up on my obvious drooling for the last five minutes. “I promise not all her songs are freaky.”

I clear my throat, nodding at her. 

“No, yeah, she’s,” suddenly any possible descriptors that I could use at the moment are stuck in the back of my throat.

“She’s incredible.”

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Full HCs of the M6 with wings please 🙏🏽

The Arcana HCs: M6 with wings

Julian

His wings look much like a raven's, except where there would be shades of blue when the light hits them, it's deep burgundy for him

Generally so sleek that he can fold them alongside his oversized coat and they're almost impossible to differentiate

One oddly humorous side effect of this is the way it affects his body language. Being such an expressive storyteller, his coat will look like it has a life of its own as he wildly gestures along

Not the best at remembering to take care of them and will melt into a puddle of affection-starved goo as soon as you start helping him preen and maintain them. Loves rambling about the anatomy

Repurposes his own shed feathers as quills

Likes wrapping them around you when he's giving you one of his all-encompassing hugs, otherwise, he keeps them in his space

Will get sooo fluffed out when you fluster him that his coat will start flapping like it's in a storm and his wings will get even bushier than his eyebrows. Feathers will start to fly if it's intense

Much prefers walking to flying unless absolutely necessary, but will make exceptions if it's to go on an adventure with you

Asra

Their wings are closely tied to their magic, and as such are very difficult to fully comprehend. They look like gravity-defying water

More specifically, his wings look a fairy's or a fly's wings, translucent with ever-shifting swirls and patterns, subtly glowing with a myriad of colors that blend into a pearly blue-ish purple

Their wings are also something they generally don't show in public - they fold down below their shoulders like a cape and lie flat below their rainbow coat. They don't care to draw attention to them

Nobody knows what exactly wing maintenance involves, all you know is that every full moon or so he goes swimming in the cave and seems extra glowy afterwards

Can and will use them like prisms during lazy mornings sleeping in and scatter rainbows all over the place

Has been known to paint on them like stained glass when they're bored. They do invite you to join in, but they're awfully ticklish

Tends to idly hover when he flies, but the one or two times you've seen him motivated to go fast he practically flashes across the sky. You're sure he's cheating aerodynamics somehow but he won't tell

Nadia

While the shape of her wings resembles an owl's, their gauzy, shimmery surface look almost like a butterfly's - if a butterfly's wings could fold back and drape elegantly along golden lines

The deep royal purple of them and the pink shimmer when the light hits them makes them look deceptively delicate. Nadia's wings are not fragile in the slightest

You did see her incorporate them into her swordplay, once, and the impact of one of them hitting her opponent sent them sailing across the ring. They are not to be messed with

While she doesn't show them off, she's not shy about them either. She spends hours maintaining them and coordinates ornaments for them to match her outfit and the occasion

Loves cupping one around your shoulders and back whenever you stand next to her, both to warm you and to protect you

Can gain the attention of a room of nobles simply by fluttering them, and uses this skill regularly and effectively

Will lightly brush your jaw with them when she walks by

Flies like a fighter jet. You've never seen acrobatics like these

Muriel

He dislikes his wings about as much as he dislikes the rest of his body, which is both saddening and par for the course

Like the rest of him, his wings are strong, big, heavy, and thick. You'd compare them to a bat, but the fur on the outside is as long and coarse as a bear's and there are powerful sinews throughout

You don't find this out for a while, but the insides of his wings are warm and leathery, covered in soft fine hairs, and very safe and comforting when you need shielding from harsher elements

Very self-conscious about the scarring and size of them

Keeps them folded in so tightly they look permanently cramped and uncomfortable, and only fully extends them when he absolutely has to. He does avoid flying because of this

As for the scarring - well - it's crisscrossed all over after years of combat, the edges are shredded and tattered in places, and you can tell where some bones and cartilage broke and healed crooked

The first time he let you sit behind him, wash and comb the fur, and finally moisturize them, he was able to let them hang loose for the rest of the day without needing to draw them in again

Portia

She has bird wings much like her brother, but they're considerably fluffier, stronger, and have the colors of a warm sunset

Keeps them neatly folded against her back while she's working, but otherwise they're fluffing and twitching and swaying behind her while she's laughing and chatting with you and her friends

Switches between flying and walking without thinking about it - she needs to get across the canal? She's not bothering with a bridge, she's taking a hop, flap, and a flutter to the other side

Loves using them to snuggle you. Whether it's casual brushes against your arms, folding around your waist to hug you, resting over your head when it starts to rain, it's all fair game

This is overall very pleasant, because she takes thorough care of them and the downy soft undersides feel like falling into the fluffiest cloud you could possibly imagine

Will use them to nudge people out of the way if she feels like her (or your) personal space isn't being respected

Her wings are so feather-dense that she does shed quite a lot and you find sunset feathers anywhere she sits or lies down

Lucio

He loves showing them off and he hates comments about their traits. Morga once told you that they were snowy white when he was a child, but over the years got streaked with red and black

They're webbed, thin enough to look like frost, with fine golden veins. Over time the sinews and bones took on crimson and charcoal black colors and he's rather proud of the effect

What he's less likely to flaunt is the deep, jagged scar slicing through one side that he got when he lost his arm

He effectively turned it into artwork with a golden tattoo, but he still tends to carefully position his gauntlet to cover for it

This in no way stops him from parading his wings otherwise. They're always halfway unfurled, poised like he's about to take flight, and matching his face for expressiveness

Startle him, and they'll fly above his head in shock before they ruffle and bristle and rustle around his shoulders as he loudly insists that he wasn't surprised at all, just playing along, no really!

Likes gently booping your nose with them to get your attention

Tends to compare his wings to others when he's insecure

[spicypepperflakesss]

💚 Post-Route Muriel | My Muriel Masterlist

theme: How To Comfort A Loved One

Muriel x GN!MC | CW: none

It's My Turn!

You had never seen Inanna act out before. But when you forget to do a beloved activity that brings you both together, you find Muriel pushed off to the floor and the defiant wolf in his place in the tiny floor mattress you three share

--------

Last night was the most fun you've ever had.

You and Muriel stumble through the front door of his hut. Your arm is slinged around his neck as he supports your weight with his.

You remember his laughs tickling your neck while you defend your sobriety with words slurring every other word.

Muriel carried on into the house, unconvinced.

"Hm, one thing's for sure," his careful whisper is loud in your ear, "Julian is formidable drinker."

The words summon a wave of nausea. You recall the dare. The excitement when you sat down. The regret when Julian swigged his tenth drink with ease. The relief when that man finally slumped against the table an hour later.

"Ugh." is all you manage to say.

You won. But at what cost?

Muriel shakes his head with a laugh. With his forehead against yours, it feels more like a nuzzle. You lean into his touch. His warmth is a balm to your aching head.

"Here, let's get you to bed soon."

Then, he snaps his thumbs. The fireplace fwooms to life. Its warm glow is kind to your eyes. You can see everything once again. Including the shadow stretching out to your feet. There's a sillhouette of one menacing wolf blocking the front of the fireplace, but you can only see the glow of her golden eyes through her shadow-veiled face.

She lowers her head. Is she.. glaring at you? Though she's shorter than both of you, you get the feeling that her golden eyes are staring you down.

"Whorf."

"Out with friends." Muriel says, "Why?"

Inanna lets out a snort that puffs in her chest. Her gaze moves from Muriel to you. She is unimpressed.

Muriel moves to the bed. He is gentle to lower you to the mattress on the floor. You can't help the sigh of relief at the moment your bum touches the mattress. Its softness invites your bones to relax. And you do. A happy hum falls from your lips as you lie down and sink into it. Finally, you can rest.

"Oh."

The crackling of the fireplace quiets your mind. You hear the chirping of crickets. A hoot of an owl. The hushed conversation between Muriel and Inanna. Your eyes begin to grow heavy as the forest's orchestra lulls you to sleep.

"She must've forgot." Muriel says, his volume lowered just enough that you can barely hear, "I'm sure she didn't mean it."

A whine. And stomp of a paw. Your eyes have fallen shut. Your mind is falling away into the depths of slumber.

"Awwour...."

A silent beat passes.

"Then, tell her in the morning." Muriel says, his tone is kind, "I'm sure she'll tell you why."

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

My mind stirs to the sound of soft snores and chirping birds.

Where am I? I make a move to toss and turn when the ache in my muscles pinch me awake.

'Ow.'

What the hell? I let out a frustrated sigh.

I just want to go back to sleep. Instead, I force my eyes open to see what the problem is.

The room is dark. The dying embers in the hearth tell me that the flames must have died sometime in the night. I'm on the hard, cold floor.

I deadpan at myself. Well, no wonder why my body is aching.

I move to open my mouth, but a putrid smell attacks my nose. Eugh. I move my hand to smell my breath against it. Meat... Sugar... Alcohol? Had I been drinking?

A furry sillhouette lies on the bed, chest heaving up and down in slow rhythm. It's Inanna. But something is different.

She's sleeping on the side of the bed closest to the floor, which is my side. That's strange. She usually hogs the whole bed by sleeping in the middle.

I peer up to see the rest of the bed behind her sleeping figure.

Everything stops when my eyes catch a glimpse of you. You stir from sleep and turn to face my side of the bed.

Your hair is as disheveled as a rat's nest. Your chest heaves and sinks as you remain in a dreamful sleep.

My heart softens at your adorable face. How cute. You look so calm. So... content. I catch your irises shifting udner your eyelids. And you sigh. I wonder what you're dreaming about?

Then, with eyes still closed, your arm reaches out before you. You hand finds its way to Inanna's fur, and your head follows its lead as your fingers burrow in her fluffiness. Then you bury your head in her fur. You take a deep inhale, and deflate with a contented sigh.

"Muri, Honey." you croak into her fur, "What time is it?"

My mouth twists with a laugh building in my throat, but I bite it back.

Oh well. So much for a blissful morning.

Inanna gets up, without any care that your limpy body plops back into the bed, face first.

An exhale escapes my nose as I smile. You must be so tired after last night.

Inanna inches towards your face and snorts a strong exhale into your face, sending your tiny hairs flying.

"Haawr." She huffs again.

(Wake up time.)

You jolt up. Your bleary eyes adjust to the dark room for a beat. I have to chew my bottom lip as I watch you peer up and look about the room. Its no different than watching a lost scraggly kitten looking for its mother.

"Oh, hi Inanna." You lie back down next to her, "Sorry I thought you were Muriel."

"Hmmff!" Inanna makes a show of turning her back to you.

(Always Muriel!)

I deadpan at her. What does she mean by that?

I lie back down and pretend I'm asleep. There's no way I'm getting caught in that.

But I keep my face hidden away, just enough to watch things unfold.

"Aw, what's wrong, my darling? What's got you in a bad mood today?"

Tiny gusts of wind blows over to my skin as something swishes against the mattress. I smile.

'Darling'. Even if she's mad at you, you always somehow get her tail wagging.

Inanna lets out a yowling yawn. Then snorts again. She lets out a chesty, sniffling exhale. As if she were about to cry.

"Hhmf."

(Nothing. It's not like you forgot anything.)

"Hm? Oh Nana. So upset."

You move in closer, even as she inches away from you, and you catch her in a comforting embrace.

"What's wrong, my baby girl? What's got my baby so upset?"

Her tail wags speed up. Is she... Does she like being called that?

I squeeze further into my hiding spot. I feel like I'm a part of a conversation I shouldn't be hearing. Still...

I clamp my hand over my smile. I'm definitely teasing her about this later.

Inanna lets out another crying snort.

(Always with Muriel!)

She snorts again. Then licks her nose.

(Never my turn.)

I deadpan at her direction. What's that supposed to mean?

Then, I hear you gasp.

"Oh! Nana." you soften at her. You bury yourself deeper into her fur.

"I'm sorry, baby. I forgot your story time."

"Awrf."

(That's right.)

"And your mad at me because I forgot, when I promised you I would, huh."

Inanna sniffles. But her tail wags faster.

(Ywes. You pwomised.)

She lets out a big snort again. Then turns to you, her brows pushed together in her glare at you.

(BUT YOU FORGOT!)

"Harmf."

(Now I'm angy. No talk.)

"Aww I'm so sorry. I actually was going to read to you last night. I was going to wake up after a short nap. But I guess it really got to me. Sorry, Nana."

"Hmff!!"

She inches away again.

"I know, that's my fault."

You both are silent for a moment.

Or so I thought. I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of you, and I see the devious smile growing on your lips as a plan forms in your mind.

"Okay, Nana, how bout this?" you say, "What if you have me the whole day?"

Inanna snorts.

(Not listening.)

"It's my fault for forgetting. So what if I take the day off and we go to the market together?"

Her ear swivels to you, but she remains resolute in "not listening".

"Theeen~" your words take on a sing-sing tone, "We can buy that bear broth crisps that I know you've been keeping your eye on."

Then, her tail starts wagging.

"Aaand, we can go to that doggy day care spa that just opened in the other district--

Her tail limps.

"So that we can go back home and I can give us both a home spa after a round of hunting."

Her tail wags come back with a vengeance, beating again the mattress like a drum. Her body twists into a cresent shape, her head craning so far back that her golden, eager eyes are behold you in excited anticipation.

"We will also be hunting squirels."

Her tail is wagging so fast she's kicking up the floor dust as everytime it beats against the bed.

She snorts.

(And?)

"I'll cook us dinner."

Inanna leans forward with anticipation.

"It'll be roasted rabbit with that sweet potato puree you like."

The two black pools that make up her irises swell and glitter at you with affection. Then, out if nowhere, she stops. Her wagging tail halts mid-air and her breathing freezes.

She's waiting for you. Waiting for one last thing before going in for the final pounce.

I catch you bite your lip. There's a smile trying to break through your expression. As if opening your mouth would release the laugh in your throat and betray the poker face you've maintained thus far.

And it does.

"A-And!!" you clear out the laugh in your throat,

"I'll read you a bedtime story."

"RWAFF RWAFF!"

(YAYYYYY!!)

I smile at the sound. For a moment, you brought out the happy, bright pup that she used to be many years ago.

I had no idea she enjoyed being pampered this much. Maybe I should've been more affectionate with her, too.

You really have a way of bringing out the best in people.

She slams her big fluffy frame against you. No matter how careful she is about it, it send you both tumbling. The laugh you've been stifling breaks through. You're giggling as her big fluffy butt wiggles against you and she covers your face in slobbery kisses.

Sometimes Inanna forgets that she's not a pup anymore. She tries to fit her whole massive frame in your embrace. You wheeze when the full force of her hind legs rests on your ribs. Ouch.

I open my mouth to tell her off, but you return her affections with your arms around her in a tight embrace, inching your body to the side so she doesn't crush you completely. You rub her back affectionately

"I love you, Nana." you mumble into her fur, "I'm really sorry. I never want you to feel neglected."

You pull back to give her a warm smile. But with the previous night of carousing and drinking, it comes off as more tired than you'd like.

Inanna whines and her ears droop at you, sensing this as well.

(I-its okay. I was just kidding)

She regards you with big, sad eyes. A mix of worry and guilt shining in them.

(I don't really need all that. I'm okay if you just want to rest together today. That's all I konda want, y'know?)

You snort, amused at her expressions.

"I know. I'm sorry again, Nana."

You reach out and wrap her in your arms once more.

"We're gonna have the best day today, I promise."

Inanna stiffens. Her golden eyes dart around, a little lost with your response, before the deflated in defeat. That's not what she meant.

My heart breaks for her a little. She forgot that you can't actually hear her.

"Oo, y'know if Muriel's already out, then maybe we can go to my place and freshen up there. And then we can have a nice breakfast before we head to the market, yeah?"

And just like that, her worries melt away and her tail is wagging again. As you lay out your plans, she peers up at you with patient, loving eyes.

I sigh in relief. Looks like the worst part if over.

"Okay, wanna go now? Maybe if we have enough time for today, we can soak in the hot springs--"

The bed shifts. I'm caught off guard when your head juts forward and you catch my eyes open before I get to close them shut.

"M-Muriel?! Have you been there this whole time?"

"...No."

I peek through my closed eyes. And you're in full view of me, staring me down with your hands on your hips.

"Muriel..."

"Mmmff." I turn away from your pointed gaze.

"Not my fault I ended up here." I mumble, "And you guys were arguing so..."

"Well yeah." you say in a softer voice than I did. I almost couldn't make it out if I didn't read your lips, a skill I learned sometime ago because I couldn't hear someone sometimes.

.... Just like what I'm doing now.

A small heat burns my cheeks. Gods, you're so...

If this morning was different--

"And Inanna."

She flinches at her name. Her head droops in apology as she avoids your gaze too.

"Did you... push him out of bed?"

Inanna shakes her head.

You stare her down, unconvinced.

Then she nods. And deflates in further guilt.

You sigh. "Geez guys, what am I going to do with you both?"

Just as Inanna thinks it's all over, you shake your head with a chuckle and beckon her to follow you.

"Alright, come on, Nana. Let's go. We gotta add a new bed to the list too."

"W-What?!"

"Yes." You deadpan at me, "No more having difficulty sleeping or being forced to sleep on the floor, okay?"

"But--"

"Nuh uh. I'm not hearing any of it." You say, "Let's go, Nana. We got a lot to do today!"

And just like that, you're out through the front door, waiting for Nana to finish up before you both leave for the day.

Inanna needs no time to get ready. But I follow her to the front door to send her off.

"Gods..." I sigh. I scratch the back of my head.

"I should really lay her back for everything at this point."

"Whorf." Inanna looks up at me.

(Sorry. For kicking you off.)

"Hm." I chuckle, "Maybe... It wouldn't be so bad to be able to fit all of us into bed."

Inanna continues to stare at me, guilt behind the big, sad golden orbs of hers.

I guess that's not what she meant.

But I have an idea of what she might mean.

I pet her fluffy head without a hint of spite or resentment. After all, it's always more than that. I don't think I want to be mad at her for something like this.

"It's alright, Nana. Really" I say, "You go have fun, okay?"

It is a joy to see her ears perk up and her mouth in an open smile. There's a spark in her eyes that hadn't been there in a long time since I first met her.

I smile back at that warmth.

"Rawrf!"

(Okay!)

And just like that, she's off. Running to your side as you both walk and talk. Your silhouettes grow small with the distance as you both are on your way back to the shop.

----------- check out my other Muriel stuff!:

My Muriel Masterlist

[thedemonofcat]

There is a spell that allows people to speak to their soulmates. It lasts about half an hour and can only be used once in a person's lifetime. Most use the spell to find their soulmate.

Witchers are taught to never use this spell. Even if you found your soulmate, they would often be horrified to have a witcher for a soulmate.

There were many times Geralt considered using the spell: during his training, after the grasses, after his first kill.

However, he first used the spell after Blaviken. Geralt knew it was selfish to introduce himself into this person's life, but he didn't want to be alone. Couldn't he find some comfort? Just for a few minutes?

Geralt assembled the spell, said the incantation, and prayed that his soulmate wasn't already dead.

There was silence.

Geralt swallowed and then said, "Is anyone there?"

"I'm here," replied the high-pitched voice of a child. "Who are you?"

In a voice filled with disbelief, Geralt replied, “My name is Geralt. What’s yours?”

The little boy proudly puffed out his chest. “Julian Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove,” he announced, clearly well-rehearsed in how to introduce himself.

Great, just great, Geralt thought. His soulmate was some young noble. Even if they did meet someday, Julian would probably be married off to someone of his status by then. But what happened next took Geralt by surprise.

“Are you here to play with me?” Julian asked, his voice hopeful. “My sisters used to play with me, but Father says they’re too old for the nursery now.”

Geralt’s heart twinged. “I wish I could play with you, Julian,” he replied, meaning it more than he expected. A moment of childhood innocence was something he hadn’t known in years. “But I’m far away right now. I just... really wanted to meet you.”

“Really?” Julian’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Why?”

Geralt hesitated. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Julian the truth, that he’d used this spell out of loneliness, after the violence of Blaviken had nearly broken him. The boy deserved his innocence.

“Because you're special, Julian,” Geralt finally said, his voice soft as the magic of the spell began to fade. “I have to go now.”

Julian’s face fell into a pout, his lip trembling. “Will I see you again?” he asked, upset at the thought of his new friend leaving so soon.

“Maybe,” Geralt replied, though he knew it wasn’t true. He would try to avoid Lettenhove from now on. How could he force his life—his world—on someone so bright and innocent?

But fate had a way of twisting even the best-laid plans. Years later, far from Lettenhove, Geralt met a bard with familiar bright blue eyes. His name was Jaskier.

[sofiagigantegirl]

Nights With Sofia

Sofia Falcone Gigante x Fem Reader

words: 1820

Sofia and I were in bed. It was eleven o'clock when we lay down to sleep, but now it must have been almost one in the morning when I felt Sofia restless. It’s been getting harder and harder to get her to bed; the nightmares grew stronger every night. It was almost impossible to have a peaceful, full night of sleep.

She spent most nights by the window, smoking, thinking, watching the movement below... and sometimes, watching me as I slept. Rarely does she manage to sleep for even a few hours; only the medication Dr. Julian prescribed helps, but Sofia doesn’t like taking it. She says she doesn’t want to rely on it or risk becoming addicted. She’s never been a fan of medications, and she wouldn’t change her mind now, not even for me.

I felt her moving in bed behind me, carefully lifting her arms off me as she got up. I opened my eyes just enough to see her silhouette crossing the room and heading for the window. The soft sound of the latch being unlocked was followed by a cold breeze flowing into the room, carrying the scent of rain falling outside.

I sat up in bed, but Sofia didn’t seem to notice me. She kept staring out at the rain as she lit a cigarette, her pack usually sitting on the windowsill. Sofia spends most nights at my apartment. The atmosphere in her house at night is neither safe nor pleasant, especially after her brother’s death. Because of that, she started coming over more often. Sometimes I have late-night shifts at work, but even then, she stays here to sleep.

I watched as Sofia tilted her head upward, exhaling smoke through her mouth, with a bit escaping from her nose. I don’t understand how she does it, but there’s something mesmerizing about the way she smokes, turning the simple act into something incredibly captivating. Every movement she makes feels hypnotic.

I got up from the bed carefully and walked over to Sofia in silence. The only sound was the soft patter of rain outside. She didn’t notice me approaching, completely absorbed in her own thoughts.

“Sofia,” I said, stepping closer and placing my hand on her shoulder, which was covered by the oversized shirt she was wearing. It was a rare sight, as she was usually dressed in her elegant dresses, luxurious fur coats, or expensive designer outfits—one piece of which could easily cover my rent.

She turned to me, taking one last drag from her cigarette, now nearly finished, and then stubbed it out on the windowsill. The smell of smoke mixed with the rain’s freshness as she casually flicked the butt out the window, not caring if someone might be passing by. She shut the window, muffling the sound of the rain, which was now falling softly but steadily outside. The sound of water blended with the silence in the room, creating a contrast with the lightness of her presence.

She smiled at me, her expression calm and gentle.

“I thought you were asleep, darling. Did I wake you?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern, though its softness betrayed that the worry was more a polite gesture than genuine. She took my hand, the one that had been on her shoulder, with a delicate touch, as if holding something precious. Something she didn’t want to let go of. I shake my head, a nearly imperceptible motion, and pull her toward the bed. “I hadn’t fallen asleep yet.” My voice comes out softly, more like a confession than an explanation.

When we reach the foot of the bed, I motion for Sofia to sit against the headboard. She does so without saying a word. As she adjusts herself, lightly tugging her shirt down to cover her legs, I climb onto the bed carefully, approaching her slowly. When I sit on her lap, her hands move automatically, as if drawn to me. They rest firmly on my hips, her fingers grazing my skin beneath the fabric of my shirt. Her face finds my neck almost immediately, and the warmth of her breath against my skin makes me close my eyes for a brief moment.

My hands begin to move over her instinctively. One slides up to her hair, my fingers weaving through the soft strands as I gently stroke the nape of her neck. The other moves slowly to her back, my fingers tracing light patterns that seem to relax her even more. I feel the tension in her shoulders gradually fade under my touch, as if I can ease, even just for a moment, the weight the world seems to have placed on her.

Moments like these with Sofia are the ones I cherish the most. The silence is filled only with the soft sound of our breathing and the faint whisper of rain outside. It’s in these moments that she feels truly present, fully here with me, without the ghosts that sometimes steal her focus.

Arkham left her quieter, and as a result, more distant too. She carries a melancholy that’s hard to put into words, as if part of her never really left that place. Even when she’s with me, it’s like something within her is always wandering somewhere else.

Even so, she tries not to drift too far away. I can feel it in the way her hands grip my hips, in the way she breathes deeply against my neck, as if searching for an anchor. But still, there are moments when I catch her lost, staring into nothingness, completely out of touch with reality.

I run my fingers through her hair with a bit more firmness, tilting my head slightly to rest it gently against hers. I don’t say anything; I don’t need to. In moments like this, the silence between us speaks more than any words ever could.

After a while, I feel the kisses she starts placing on my neck, soft and warm, as if each touch carries something she can’t put into words. Her hands caress my sides gently.

I pull back slowly, just enough to meet her gaze. Sofia’s eyes always hold something that captivates me—a glow that’s both strong and vulnerable, as if she carries the weight of the world but still wants to share it with me. I cradle her face in both hands, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my fingers, and lean in closer.

When our lips meet, it's as if the entire world disappears. The kiss is calm, sweet, and each movement feels like a silent conversation between us, where words would never be enough. Her kisses are always like this, as if she’s giving me pieces of the purest parts of herself.

The first kiss I shared with Sofia felt like every step I had taken and every decision I had made in my life had led me to her. And now, in that moment, everything made sense. I had never felt like this with anyone before, and with Sofia, everything was different.

She holds me tightly, her arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer, as if she wants to merge our bodies and souls into one space. It's almost impossible to be closer than we already are, but her embrace defies that idea. Her warmth surrounds me completely, making every point of contact between us feel like a refuge.

The kiss continues, slow, but filled with a passion that doesn’t need to rush. I feel its intensity in every gesture, in the way her hands slide down my back, holding me gently, and in the way her lips move against mine, as if memorizing every detail.

When the kiss ends, it’s Sofia who pulls away first, but only enough to rest her forehead against mine. Her hands stay on my waist, and she lets out a light sigh, almost as if she had been holding her breath the whole time.

“You’re everything to me,” she whispers, as if it were a secret. I smile, not saying anything, because I know she understands. I pull her into a longer embrace, as the rain outside continues its tranquil symphony, as if the world is conspiring to make this moment perfect.

Sofia sighs against my neck, and the sound is almost a relief. It feels like she’s found refuge, even if just briefly. I run my fingers gently through her hair, and I feel her arms tighten around me a little more, as if she doesn’t want this moment to end.

“Sofia,” I murmur softly, my voice sounding like an invitation. She lifts her head, her eyes shining in contrast to her tired expression. There’s something deep in her gaze, a mix of gratitude and vulnerability that makes me want to protect her from everything.

“Lie down with me,” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. She hesitates for a moment but then nods, slowly releasing my hips. As she settles into bed, I move to lie beside her. Sofia turns to me, reaching out to pull me closer.

Our bodies adjust naturally, as if made to fit together. My head rests on her shoulder, and one of her hands moves up my back, tracing soft, reassuring lines. Her other hand holds mine, our fingers intertwined in a gesture that says more than words could.

The warmth of her body is comforting, a perfect contrast to the light chill of the night air seeping in through the window. I press my face against her neck, breathing in the familiar scent that is uniquely hers — a mix of cigarette smoke, expensive perfume, and something softer that I can’t quite name.

Sofia leans slightly, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of my head. “Sorry for worrying you,” she says softly, her voice carrying a weight it shouldn’t have.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I reply, still nestled in her embrace. My hands slide down to her waist, holding her firmly, as if I want to anchor her to the present moment.

I feel her chest rise and fall with a deep breath, and I realize she’s slowly relaxing. Arkham may have taken a part of her, but moments like this make me believe there’s still so much of Sofia here with me, enough to build something worth it.

She hugs me tighter, and the warmth of her touch lulls me. There are no more words, just the sound of our synchronized breathing and the distant beat of the rain against the window.

Eventually, her movements slow, and I realize she’s giving in to sleep. My hand moves up to her face, gently tracing the line of her jaw before resting on her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heart.

“Goodnight, Sofia,” I whisper. I don’t expect an answer; I know she’s already falling asleep. I close my eyes, letting the comfort of her embrace take me as well.

[reality-detective]

I see a lot more of this 👇 kind of stuff and if you think about it: Remember the movie "V for Vendetta" it was rated ; R that came out in 2005? It was repeated frequently - "Remember, Remember the 5th of November"

Trump has said multiple times; "November 5th will be the greatest day in American history."

I'm just trying to connect some dots. I have no way of actually knowing the timeline, so I ask myself questions and knowing what I know and see a lot of things like this 👇 It's just a hunch and it kinda makes sense.

Military Intelligence follows the Julian Calendar

· Trump created the fake Biden presidency to expose globalist crime and corruption on a massive scale.

· The Emergency Broadcast System will introduce martial law until fair and transparent elections can be held.

· Three Days of Darkness: Planned cyber attacks on everything—Internet down, communications cut, power grid possibly shut off.

· 10 Days of Disclosure: A single website, one web channel, broadcasting the truth eight hours a day, in a loop.

· NESARA/GESARA debt forgiveness will be implemented—freedom from the Deep State's chains.

· The military will ensure that the masses get the food they need.

· QFS will be put in place to crush the financial elites.

· A 95% reduction in the corrupt government—we will finally be free from the parasites.

· Federal Reserve? Dead. IRS? Taken over by the new U.S. Treasury.

· A new tax system: only a 14%-17% tax on new items—no taxes on food, medicine, or wages. If you buy a used car, no taxes because whatever bought it brand new already paid said taxes. Finally, real financial relief for the people.

· Maritime Law will be thrown out, replaced by Common Law. No more tyranny in disguise.

You know the election is going to be a disaster, it's no secret they are tampering with the early voting and we are watching in real time that they are already committing treason. Is that the day a soft martial law goes into effect? If memory serves me, after the official announcement of NESARA there has to be an election 120 days later. Elections used to be in April and I don't know when it was moved to November. And if I were to guess, I would say it was to affect voter turnout with the colder weather.

The World IS About To Change 🤔

[beauty-is-terrror]

I know your planning to be angsty and hurt my feelings with your Henry/reader, but I'd love to hear about how the relationship began, all the soft moments, etc. Even if it is just in dot-point form

Thank you very much for your lovely ask. This is the VERY beginning. I have more parts planned so y'all can see how their relationship started and grow, the butterflies rising and first confessions of attraction and love.

____________________________________________________________

please keep in mind that i am not an english literature student, i do not have any literature degrees. therefor i have no idea if this even makes sense, BUT i did read a paper on the symbolism of weather in Wuthering Heights.

english is not my first language

____________________________________________________________

THE FIRST MEETING: Henry Winter x Reader

The wind was rattling on the windows of the Lyceum and on the first floor a group of eager students was waiting for their professor to finally bless them with his presents. Henry was sitting quietly, reading his book, not paying attention to the talking around him.

Richard sitting opposite of him, just stared out the window and played with the pen in his hand.

While Camilla and Francis talked quietly between each other trying to make up their minds about where to have lunch today and what they should have for dinner on Sunday.

On the other side of the table Bunny was trying to explain to Charles why he should come with him to this party tonight, because according to Bunny it would do Charles good to interact with someone outside of their class.

Time passed. The wind was getting stronger.

Suddenly there was movement outside the classroom, a pair of feet moving up the stairs. But it was too loud for just one pair of feet and two voices were starting to get louder as they moved up to the first floor, echoing in the nearly empty building.

Richard, Camilla, Francis, Charles and Bunny moved their eyes toward the door.

Henry still focused on the book in front of him.

The voices grow louder, and it feel like minutes had passed before the door finally opened and Julian walked through it followed by a head of chocolate brown hair.

“Good morning, everybody.” Julian said while looking at each of his students.

I am stepping beside him to look at who he has been greeting, just to be met with stares from five pairs of eyes.

Silence.

Julian moves his face slightly towards me and says low “Usually they are quite the opposite, and I have problems making them stop talking.” I smile at him and look at the faces who are still looking at me like I am some Victorian ghost from a different century.

“Hello. I am Y/N” I try to introduce myself before the silence grows into awkwardness. My name leaves my mouth, and I am being met with a pair of dark brown eyes sitting behind a pair of glasses. He didn’t look up when Julian and I walked in. He didn’t look up when Julian greeted them just moments ago. But he looks up when he hears me saying my name. My eyes stay on his, my hands start sweating and for a moment I am not sure who I am nor where I am. His eyes seem so familiar. We only look at each other in the eyes for a handful of seconds but I could look at them for hours.

My eyes break away, a slight flush rises in my cheeks, and I smile at all the other faces. A muffle of Hellos is moving through the room.

“Well, this is Y/N and she will be with us for about two lessons each week this semester. One of her literature professors is a good friend of mine and asked if I would be having her for some of my lectures. Y/N has a special interest in Greek literature from the ancient world and it’s influences on Victorian and modern literature.” Julian finally giving his students some context on why I was standing there. Why I am intruding their closed off club. Julian moved aside and gestures for me to sit down.

The only empty seat is next to Richard and so I sit down carefully while still being stared at. They have not taken their eyes off me, as if they can’t believe I am not just a hallucination. I swallow and look at the faces around the table, I am being met with smiles from Richard and Francis.

“I am Richard, nice to meet.” He says shy next to me. “Hey.” I say with a low voice.

“Ehm.” Richard’s eyes move towards Henry who has been starring down on his book since our eye contact broke. “Well, this is Camilla and Francis.” Richards nods towards the girl and boy opposite of me. “It is nice to meet you.” I lock eyes with Camilla for a second, but I am not sure what to make of her facial expression, while Francis just smiles, takes my hand and places a kiss on top of it “It is a pleasure to meet you.” Francis’s eyes move from mine to Charles and Bunny. “These two are Charles and Edmund, well Bunny. And they also have no manners as it seems.” They both say hello but are not able to say more as Julian sits down at the head of the table and all eyes are on him, well not all of them. I can feel one pair of brown eyes staring at me from the other end of the table.

“Good. Now that everyone has been introduced, I suggest we start today lesson …” Julian is a marvelous speaker and I can barely keep up with taking notes as he speaks, pens are moving across endless pages, as if any word not written down would be crime. Even though I try to focus on the words coming from Julian’s mouth, I can still feel a pair of dark brown eyes staring at me from the other end of the table. He has not introduced himself to me. He is not writing down a single word. He just looks at me.

As the lesson goes on Julian makes a few references to Victorian literature and we start to discuss Emily Bronte, while the others look between us as if we are speaking a language, they are not familiar with. I am surprised, has no one here ever read anything from one of the Bronte sisters or anything that isn’t a thousand-year-old poem? Suddenly I hear a little giggle from the end of the table, where he has been sitting all this time, staring at me. All eyes move to him. I look him straight in the eyes and say “Is there something you want to add?” and my hands are starting to sweat again.

He opens his mouth and for the first time I get to hear his voice, a voice which would grow familiar to me like my own. “I was just wondering if you could elaborate on the last point you made, about the symbolism of weather in Wuthering Heights.”

His comment surprises me, I look down for a second to break our eye contact, just to collect myself and my thoughts before I look into these dark brown eyes again. “Of course … “ and for the next couple of minutes all I see is him. His eyes. His lips. His sharp jaw line. Everyone and everything around me fads into nothingness. I can see how his eyes move between my lips and my eyes as the corners of his mouth move up so slightly. Till we sit there, smiling at each other in silence and only having eyes for one another.

Richard looks at Francis and Camilla just to find them starring at Henry, just like he has been. Is Henry really smiling? And has he really read Wuthering Heights? Even Julian seems to be surprised. And we all sit there in silence. Charles and Bunny exchanging looks, Camilla looks at Francis. Richard stares at Y/N. Something has happened, something has shifted. The atmosphere is not the same anymore and it feels like they have been witnessing an intimate moment, a private moment.

Julians sighs “We should have students from other departments join us more often. It can lead to such interesting conversations. Oh well, now let us talk about your homework for our next lesson.” The word homework echoing through the room makes most of his students stop starring at Henry and Y/N. But not the two of you. He presses his lips together and lets his eyes leave my face, just to glare down my upper body instead. I can feel my hands sweating and my cheeks blushing. Again.

At some point Julian closes the lesson for today and everybody is eager to get out. Camilla throws her notebook and pen into her bag and grabs Francis upper arm. Bunny is basically pushing Charles down the stairs, while explaining to him, again, that he must go to that party with him tonight. Julians steps next to Richards and asks him if has time for a little chat, as he has been impressed with his recent improvement in Latin.

And so, it just him and me in the room. Alone. I still don’t know his name.

I carefully put pen and notebook into my bag, while pretending to look for something inside of it, for some reason I want to be in his presence just a little bit longer, alone. Even though looking at him seems impossible right now, my cheeks are already red and hot. He pushes his chair back, grabs his notebook, book and fountain pen before moving around the table so he must walk right behind me. I am about to get up myself when he stops behind my back. We both stand still for a second and I can hear him breathing behind me. His face moves next to my ear “It seems like I have to read Wuthering Heights again and look for some of the motives you have mentioned.” His voice is low, he nearly whispers as if trying to make sure that only I can hear these words which sound so thoughtful. My head moves slightly, and we are so close, our noses are nearly touching. “I would love to hear your thoughts …” I want to address him by his name, but I don’t know it and he can see the slight confusion in my face. His eyes move to my lips again before looking into my eyes again and then there is something soft in them as he says, “My name is Henry.” Only a low “Hello.” is able to leave my mouth. He gets moving to leave the classroom, just to stop at the door and look back at me “I am looking forward to see you again.” And without me being able to reply anything he is off and I can only hear his steps down the stairs.

[millerscoffee]

soft spot for trouble | part two | hbf!javi

my celluloid scenes are torn at the seams.

6.8k | javier peña x f!reader

part one | masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: husband's best friend, infidelity, hangover, confiding in ur bff, a lot of tears - like a lot, guilt, shame, nauseating truths, phone sex, mutual masturbation, lots of dirty talk, edging for a second, hints of subspace and papí!javi, pet names & degrading names (slut, bebita, cariño), javi would do anything to have reader and kind of says it tbh. no use of y/n.

summary: after waking up in javi– peña's house, guilt rushes you. after discovering another truth about your husband, you wonder if your marriage is salvageable.

A/N: just wanted to say thank you for all of your support and encouragement. i really appreciate the response part one received, and hope to continue loving these two as much as i do. enjoy! ♡

When you wake up, your mouth is a desert.  Cigarettes, whiskey, and the faint taste of someone who wasn’t your husband coats your tongue.  Head pounding, there are parts of your body you didn’t realise could even get dry.  Your eyes aren’t open yet, as if you need the world to calibrate with you before you adjust to it, and when you do – you know where you are immediately.

Guilt hits you like a thousand stones to your chest.

“Fuck,” you sit up all to fast, it dizzies you, only adding to your heart palpitations.  “Fuck,” you choke a sob.  Fearful, panicked.  What the fuck have you done?

Javi– Peña wasn’t in his bed.  You weren’t sure where he was, and you didn’t want to find out.  Not a single part of you could bring yourself to look at him.  The two of you held a secret that shouldn’t have seen the light of day– or, the light of neon.  You get flashbacks of the bar, of his hands on you.  It’s all too much, rebelling up your throat as your eyes dart around in a dire need for the bathroom.

You make your way out of bed enough to hit your knees in front of the toilet bowl, the rest of your regret becoming a tangible entity residing with you in Javier's bathroom.  Couldn’t get any worse.  At least that’s what you think, until you come to the sinking realisation that Julian doesn’t know where you are.  You place your forehead over your forearm and cry into the toilet: vomit, snot, and tears taking over your face.  The prettiest sight.  A hangover’s dream.

You give yourself time to be here.  You knew if your husband would wait on you this long, he’d continue to be patient until you got yourself together.  This truth makes your howling worse, shaking from how royally messed up your life has become within a matter of hours.  It takes about five more minutes for you to regulate your nervous system enough to stand up, but everything equally feels like it’s spinning and that makes things difficult.

You groan on your way upright, letting out a heavy sigh before rising to your feet and flushing.  You wash your mouth out, wash your face, try to cleanse yourself from the night before.  You redirect any thought that may suggest otherwise.  It wasn’t meant to happen, and Javier would know that soon.

It doesn’t take you too much longer to feel suitable in exiting the bathroom when you realise just how naked you are – completely, even.  And he was right, you had a limp you couldn’t ignore.  That truth, you couldn’t help but bite a grin back at.  He was everywhere if you focused: you could still feel him inside you, your hips sore all the way to the apex of your thighs and down.  He was everywhere.  God, you were fucked up for finding it sexy.

A shirt you never really saw him in was on the bed… did he leave that for you?  You slip the larger t-shirt over your frame and ignore the way it smelled innately like Javi.  Peña, you remind yourself.

After the worn fabric touches your skin, you’re brave enough to tiptoe out into his living room.  Your eyes scan the kitchen where he ate you out.  Where he made you squirt.  It all looks cleaned now, as if nothing happened.  A part of you hopes it’s true, and it fights with the other side of you begging for a round two.  All of the quiet giving signs of one truth: Javier is not at home.  No note, no instructions if you should lock up.  Just gone.

Maybe it was better that way.  Loneliness didn’t creep around you in the way it would if Julian did this to you.  It didn’t cause any disruption in your day, or alter it dramatically.  If anything, you felt relieved you didn’t have to talk to him.  To excavate an already awkward and dead situation.  You took what you wanted, that was all.

You decide to utilise his shower, going back to the hellscape that was where you threw up and undressed again.  You turn the dials to a steamy, hot shower – he wouldn’t mind right?  You’d send him a bill.  When it’s time, the water feels like a blessing as your sinuses open.  Your head, less bogged down, yet a cloud of shame resides in the shower with you.  You were careful not to use his products, not to smell like him if you could help it and definitely remove the scent of cigarettes from your skin… if it were possible.  Regardless, you stay in the shower a little longer before it’s time to remove yourself.

Being in Peña’s space when he wasn’t here was nice.  Although, it looks new… because it was.  Furniture littering the living room when you’re dried and dressed.  He was back from Colombia, and that’s really as much as he was willing to share.  He didn’t know for how long, and it was tinged with rushed embarrassment about the issue.

But, most of his work was like that, from what you could tell.  A lot of secrecy, inability to talk about his work out in the open.

He knew how to keep a secret.

No, don’t go there.

The skirt’s zipper is popped open from last night and when you try to pull it up, you resign to tie your jacket around the fabric.  It’s not long before you’re out.

That was that.

But you can’t go home.  You lean back against Peña’s front door when the palpitations come back in full force, as if the fresh air held truths about what you did than you could even comprehend.  Fucked, you’re fucked.

Your hair is wet, you’re kind of cold even though the Texan heat surrounds you.  You feel lost and scared and disgusting.  And as if your mind maps your route for you, you walk to Gabbie’s instead of your own house.  Knuckles graze over the door, you don’t even really know what time it is, but there’s a possibility she’s at work unle– “...Are you okay?”  Gabbie looks concerned when she opens the door to find you on the other side: hungover, mascara still seemingly down your face even after the shower, your clothes reeking.  She sees you for who you are, unable to stop the floodgates from lifting.  Your face screws up in a weep you can’t stop, and she ushers you inside – looking behind her before closing the door.

“I… I…,” you hiccup, burying your face in your best friend’s shoulder, you feel it when she lets you give in to her.  A worry comes over you, would she still support you like this after she finds out the truth?  After she finds out who you really are?  Repulsion grips your throat again, unable to form it.  But Gabbie is tolerant, you always appreciated it about her.  You needed the space to think, and she was always good at giving that to you.  Something Julian was more impatient about, but it wasn’t the time to point out his shortcomings.  God, your head hurt.

“C’mon, let’s get you some tea,” she whispers, curling her nose at the scent of smoke on the fabric, “and some new clothes.”  You sniffle and nod, following her into the kitchen while she goes to grab some comfortable clothes for you to replace.

“What happened, honey?”

With your arms curled at the kitchen counter, you rest your head in them, “I fucked everything up.”  It feels like you did, feels like you couldn’t undo this if you tried – if you even wanted to.  Your voice sounds meek, whiny, you can’t believe it’s you who’s saying the words.  You could and wanted to be better than you were. 

“What do you mean?”  Gabbie pulls a couple of cups from the cupboard before turning on the kettle, your mind not registering the irony of having hot tea for where you are in the world, but her air conditioning made the experience understandable.  Really, any thought to take you out of your narrative aided in not completely fainting from the inertia of reality that stuck to the pit of your stomach.

“Julian and I,” you start.  An attempt.  A purchase.  Something to make it less bad than how you felt, anything to take the sting away.  “We-we had this big fight last night, and I-I went down to the bar and I ran into someone and…,” tears soak your face again, you choke on the sobs before you can get anything else out.  You couldn’t utter it, the guilt weaves a vice grip around your voice.  You couldn’t tell her it was Peña, and you couldn’t tell her you fucked anyone else but your husband.  Those two truths pinned your eyes down, disabling you to look up from the granite tops.

You weren’t looking for sympathy, and Gabbie knew that.  But fuck, when you look up, pity is coating her face.  She mutters your name when she walks around the side and grips you in a hug.  “You love him, honey.  You made a mistake.  What matters now is making it right.”

You’re not sure what hurt worse, the prospect of making it right or the fact that when Gabbie calls what you had with Peña a mistake, it twists a knife inside you – one you weren’t sure you could take out now.

You pull away when the kettle begins to sing and you’re able to snort a laugh at her curled nose.  The scent of cigarettes, equally from Javi– Peña and the bar, circulates you.  “Seriously.  You need a shower.” “And those clothes, could I borrow some?”

After finishing your cup – and having a long talk, you utilise your friends shower and slip on a fresh pair of clothes – and you’re grateful for the guest bathroom stocked with unused toothbrushes.  You look more presentable, and feel a little better.  Albeit, feeling more indebted than before you came through the threshold of her place.  “Listen, I can’t and won’t tell you to hold this secret for me.  It’s too much to bear, you shouldn’t be responsible for holding this.”  Your hand brushes over your face, but she’s quick to interject.

“You’re my friend.  My best friend.  You don’t owe me anything.  I’m not going to leave you or rat you out.  I don’t judge you.  Just make this right, okay?  I hate to see you like this.”

She’s a good friend.  Makes you wonder if Julian is a friend like this to Peña.  Fuck, it never ends.

You don’t know what you did to deserve Gabbie, but you hug her anyway.  Your clothes in your bag, you’re on your way.  You thank her, you kiss her cheek, and you look intently into her eyes before leaving.

You had to make this right.

Julian, I had an affair, you think.  That’s how you’ll tell him.  No.  Listen, Julian – last night I got drunk.  God, no.  It was all wrong.

You had to tell him, but one thing was for certain: you weren’t going to say who.  You just couldn’t bring yourself to split up their friendship, no matter how mutually involved Javier was.  And you couldn’t bear the thought of Julian’s borderline smug expression at how correct he was in assuming the worst of you.

How he did one thing wrong and you made a dumpster fire of it.

The pounding in your head was more from tension and stress by the time you made it to your front door.

And nervous couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt.  Nauseous, heart pounding, sweat prickles your skin.

When you unlock the door, a new sense of silence fills the air of your home.  It’s eerie, being here after doing what you did.  Like your past self is slapping you in the face as soon as you close the door behind you.  ‘How could you ruin this home?  How could you throw away every second of time and love you poured into this relationship?’.  You close your eyes, dizzy as you press the back of your head against the frame of your house – finding support, finding breath.  But not finding your husband.

“Julian?” you call out, toeing your shoes off before putting your purse away; keys in the pot.  Nothing.  No where.

You make your way to the kitchen when you find a note.

Out with Peña.  Be back soon.  I miss you.  – J

Fuck.  Holy fucking shit.  What?  What?!  Your mouth slacks open in shock.  Followed by fear, followed by rage.  Did Javier invite him out?  While you were fucking asleep?  You felt as though you were going to faint when you heard the phone ring.  Throat dry, you cling to the edge of the tabletop before taking the phone off the hook – you shakily press the receiver to your ear.  “H-hello?”

“Wow, you sound guilty,” your breath hitches and hotness washes over your skin.

“Peña, I–”

“Who’s Peña, huh?  Not necessarily what you were saying last n–”

“Stop.  Just stop.  Where’s Julian?  He left a note, said he was with you.  Did you?  God, I can’t even say it.”

You can hear the drag of a cigarette on the other line and it forms flashbacks you did your best to deny you enjoyed.  You were so logical, so level-headed before his voice filtered through the microphone – the moment you hear the slip of nectarous syllables, you want to fold.  You hated this.  Pressing your forehead to the adjacent wall, the phone hangs loosely in your fist when you listen.

“I didn’t tell him anything, querida,” tears form in your eyes from your lack of control; the pet name panging you.  It shouldn’t have, but goddammit.  Goddammit.  Your hand braces against the pillar-lengthed frame, “he’s at work now.  He came by looking for you.  I told him you were with me last night–”

“What the fuck, Javier.”

“People saw you leave with me last night,” your name fits in his mouth better than it should and you swallow hard, knowing he’s right. “He would have found out.”

“This has to stop, we have to stop,” you can hear it – the strain on your throat, the knife inside, that ever present hum of your doom.  Your clammy palm touches your jaw as you will yourself to stand up straighter.  Instantly queasy, bad idea.  You sink down the wall, sitting down as the cord of the phone follows you.

“I know,” Javier whispers now, a bit pained.

“Did it hurt seeing him?” Your own voice bruised.

“Not as much as I anticipated.  That hurt more, probably.”

It’s quiet for a long time.  Your knees curled up to your chest, hands curled until your chin.

“I know that we have to stop,” Javi– fuck, Peña, starts, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, “we have to.” and it’s there.  It’s right there in how you say it.  How your words draw out rather than cut sharp.  More beseeching than a strong boundary.  An obvious sign of how you bend for him like kinetic energy’s effect on tree limbs from wind.  It is all in motion, too close to stop.  Your barrier is already washing away, and you cling closely to its threads.  You must keep your wits about you.  “We have to,” you repeat, your voice soaked in tears this time.

On the other line, Javier squeezes his eyes shut.  The cigarette burns between his fingers as he presses his index and thumb where the bridge of his nose meets.  And the thing with Javi, is that he doesn’t beg, but you’ve got him so wrapped up – so enthralled in what could be, maybe the chase, that he can’t see anything else.  “What will it take?”

That is when you hear the doorknob turn.  “I have to go,” you hush, rising to your feet and wiping your face, “can I call you later?” but he’s already hung up, so you do the same.  It knocks the air out of you, but you don’t have time to dwell.

Julian turns the corner to where you are: almost hidden between the kitchen and laundry room.  And if you were crying more, you’re doubled in tears now.

“Julian,” you cry, rushing to him.  Your arms wrap around him and although he wraps back around you, you’re left with a sinking feeling: guilt, shame, a veracity that this touch you were feeling wasn’t half as electric as the one you felt last night.  “Julian, I’m so sorry.” you snivel in his shoulder, feeling his arms wrap around you tighter.  The nose against your temple doesn’t feel as strong as Javier’s, and it all stings.  It feels a new sense of wrong when you pull away, and he’s thumbing under your eyes.

“No, I’m sorry,” his voice is soft, beckoning you to be close, and you want to – you really want to.

But you don’t know if you can.

That rush of why this shatter exists in the first place comes in waves as it crashes into your skin – leaving a film of betrayal over every cell.  Because it wasn’t just his lying that led you to the bar last night, it was the repetitious behaviour.  Julian’s demanding a different treatment than what he gave.  Your arms slip from him and hang by your sides, giving yourself some space.

“I guess you know where I was last night,” you bite the corner of your lip, leaning against the wall for some stability, arms crossed.

“Yeah, I went to see Peña.  Was worried sick about you, you know.  You couldn’t have called?” you suppose you deserved that.  You nod swiftly, “I should have, I’m really sorry.  I just, I needed to clear my head.”

“Well, since you stayed at his place, I hope you realise how silly this all is.  How miniscule it all is.  Just because I slept with Veronica–”

“Excuse me?” your eyes widen, “Veronica… Veronica… The same Veronica who you told me not to worry about?” you remember the party – a holiday party with Julian’s coworkers, one of which, Veronica.  Red lipstick is easy to trace: cups, forks, your husband’s cheek.

He promised it was nothing, promised it was only a friendly kiss under the mistletoe and now, a year later, you’re in your kitchen being told that only was it something, it was something that went on for years.  “How fucking long have you known her, Julian?”

When your eyes cut to him, he looks frozen.  Like he didn’t mean for it to come out, and now he has unraveled such a can of worms he doesn’t know where to begin, but you sure do.  He doesn’t deserve to waste another second of your time today.  You felt so guilty, so wrong for every second of your day only to be lied to for who knows how long.  Your mind reels at the possibilities.  The double-dealing.

“I-I can’t have you in this house.  I need you out.  I need you out, get out.  Pack a fucking bag, I need space.”

You had no room to talk, you knew that, but after a whole day of worrying yourself to the bone, and this was how it really was?  The details he neglected to inform you for how long?  You brush past him before he can respond, and it hurts more that he doesn’t put up a fight.  Packs a bag, tells you he’s going to stay with Javier, and leaves within fifteen minutes.  Your knees buckle the second the door closes behind him, heavy wails rattling your ribcage.

---

You’re not sure your face has ever been so puffy.  You pour a glass of water, and you just barely remember to eat, but you do.  You don’t open the blinds, though.  At least you’re trying.  Keeping the house dark, it’s surprising when you don’t reach for alcohol or something to numb this, but a part of you wonders if he’ll call.

And you don’t mean Julian.

The sun sets, leaving inky blue in the sky when you get ready for bed.  It’s been such a long day that you couldn’t imagine staying up for a second longer.  After a long bath, you change into your silk pyjamas.  You’re not sure you’ve taken so many showers or baths in one day, either.  That makes the stranger of an amused grin grace your features.  You were washing away every memory you could from today.

Getting under the blankets, you look over to Julian’s side of the bed.  How empty it was, how you missed him.  You couldn’t help it.  The two of you built a life together, but one that you were coming to understand was built on more lies than one and god, you just couldn’t cry about it any more tonight.

But it was lonely like this.

You wondered what the two of them were doing.  If Peña– fuck it– Javi was listening to him, if Julian was lying to him.  Thoughts flooded you so much the sound of the phone on your nightstand is background noise until you realise it.  A gasp flutters your lungs, turning your head to it.  Shit.

Picking up the phone, you place it to your ear, but you don’t say anything immediately.  A nauseating twelve seconds.

“Cariño?” your breath hitches when you hear him.  Sinking further down in the bed, your legs brush against the sheets and your eyes slip shut.  It’s a relief where earlier in the day it was a curse.

“Javi–,” you start, tears pricking your eyes, and he’s already catching you.

“I know, baby, I know.”

And you want so bitterly to scream I’m not your baby, you don’t want anyone near you in this way after the day you had – after the deception that coated your marriage from both you and your husband lies in wait for you both to get back to.  But you don’t tell him that, you don’t contest.

Instead you sniff softly and wipe your eyes.  You focus on your inhales, you settle yourself down.

You are there for yourself more than anyone else could ever be.

“Is he there?” a part of you worries Javi won’t like what you asked, that he will feel slighted, but you’re relieved when he answers you without a passing judgment.

“He is, I think he’s asleep now.  I’m not sure what you told him, but he was a mess.  He, uh, called you crazy, though…,”

“He what?” your jaw tightens, clenching the sheets with your free hand, “He’s the fucking crazy one–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Javi’s voice hushes you in his smooth, but matter-of-fact way, and you close your mouth. “I know.  I was there, remember?  We all went to college together.”

“Who was the other woman?  Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I’m not sure, I think she was from out of town.  And I didn’t know that you didn’t know, remember?  What happened?”  So you explain.  Tell Javi all about the way Julian assured you not to worry about her at the company party, or any time thereafter.  Peña curses under his breath, “What a fucking idiot, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” your jaw ticks, tempting to pull your tears back in.  No more tonight.

“Seriously.  You don’t deserve this.  You deserve… someone who’s honest with you.  For better or for worse.”

For better, for worse.  You weren’t sure if Javi did that intentionally, but the vow makes you feel sick now on what was a beautiful wedding day.  It’s simultaneous, the remembering of it.  But you shove it down, deep.  You want to forget.

So you sigh.  Occiput at the headboard, and you close your eyes – just wanting some peace.  A distraction, maybe?  It was just so present, and it burned as strong as your desire for Javier that couldn’t be contained for a second longer.  Especially not now with yet another thing on your plate pulled you away from who you thought was the love of your life.

“Where are you?” you ask, and you think it’s unassuming enough, but the slight exhale of laughter from the other end calls you out, “I’m in bed. I assume you’re the same?”

“Shocked you wouldn’t be out all night.”

“You know, I wanted to go to this girl’s place tonight, but she’s kinda going through a lot right now.  Seemed a little too much,” he’s hushed now and the transition of his voice stirs your middle.  It shouldn’t, but it does.

Worse, it makes you smile.

“She sounds like a bore,” you swipe a thumb over your grin, but there was some truth to that.  Despite the adventurous couple days, you didn’t necessarily feel like you were an exciting person.  You had a 9-5 (lucky to be off today), you had a husband.  You did your activities, and you came home.  This was the most excitement you’ve experienced in, well, maybe since you met Julian.  There were areas you were passionate about that either got abandoned due to it not meshing with his schedule, or him not approving of it.

Was he ever good for you?

“She sounds like she needs to relax.”

“What are you suggesting?” you respond.  The tension cuts like a knife even through the phone, and you can hear his own smile form.  If you close your eyes, you can see it.

“It’s cute when you play dumb.”

“What?  Phone sex?” you question as if your words are twisting a lock of your hair, ripe for the picking.

“Is that what this is?” Javi questions, giving you the same fake-innocence that’s being thrown at him.

“Is that what you want?”

There’s a pause, contemplative and feverish.  The sound of fabric plays in the background until ultimately stillness.

“You would get off while your husband is in my apartment across the hall?” Javi’s quiet, but his words cause your legs to spread, a bitten noise in the back of your throat greets you on this hellish day on earth.  “Mierda. You’re so dirty, you know that?  Willing to do anything for me.”

“I’m not sure I should do anything you tell me,” you start with a flash of amusement, you’re unable to think about anything but the slick gathering between your legs, “but I want to.”

“You need it, bebita?  You need me to take care of you?  Because I can, but only if you tell me.”

You bite your bottom lip, slipping your head over your pillow as you get comfortable in the dark.

“Take care of me, Javi.  Make me feel good.”

And it was working already, your other hand skates over your abdomen as a shiver sends through you.

“Do you think it’s that easy?”  a growl behind his voice, you gasp quietly at the sound.  “Beg me.”

“God, after today?  Seriously, Javi?”

“Beg.”

And there’s something about the way he barks an order that makes your hole clench around nothing.  Like last night when he pulled back because you weren’t giving him what he wanted right away.  Makes you want to do as he says, and you can’t explain why.

“Javi,” clouded in arousal, your legs squeeze together to feel friction – 180° turn around from your protests, “I need you, I want to cum for you.  Want to know how good you make me feel.  Please, Javi.”

You hear Javi’s jeans unzip.  Jeans in bed, the mad man.

“We’re going slow, bebita.  Understand?  Go ahead, slip your hand down.  You'll do as I say, sí?”

Instinctively, your free hand slips down, gasping at the pool of wetness there.  More than what you thought, something comes over you.  The heat of pleasure washes over any other thought. 

“Yes – yes, Javier.  I’ll do as you say.  Tell me what to do, Javi – fuck – please!  Tell me how to get myself off,” your tongue darts out of your lips, brain swimming as the swell of your sex pulses in crashing undulations demanding to be touched.

And Javi fucking loves that.  The desperation in your voice, wrecked with desire, and you’re so sober compared to last night.  All of this is true.  Your eagerness drives him to his own cliff, abandoning any remorse he has for his friend.  The focus shifts on you and Javi alone.

“Take your index finger and ring finger.  Are you paying attention?”  you hum, focusing on those two fingers.  “Yes or no, hermosa?  Use your words.”

And you waste no time in humming again, spreading your wetness across your folds from the shift of your thighs.  “Yes, I’m paying attention,” orbs already glossy, the lost sound of you is initiative for Javi.

“Spread your lips apart with them and lightly — I mean it, cariño,” he warns briefly, “lightly press your middle finger against your clit.”

So you do as you’re told.  Your fingers are natural as they spread your lips, and you let out a heady sigh when your middle finger grazes over your clit.  “S’sensitive,” you slur, biting a sob as your head rocks to the side against the plushness of pillow.  “Javi…,”

“You feel that, babygirl?  That's good.  Keep my cunt pried open.  Roll your middle finger against your clit, harder this time.  That clit your husband neglects, but I found day one.  Bounce the pad of your finger against it, up and down just like that.  Good girl.  I bet you look like a dream, princesa.  Wish I could taste you…,” he trails off and you can hear the faint sound of his skin.  You imagine him hard while he talks to you, the cherry of his head beading with precum as he smears it down the shaft.  It sends you to whine, bouncing the pad of your middle finger – up and down, just like he instructs.  You’re being so good for him, and you know it.  Following what he says, word for word.  Your folds feel so soft like this, you wonder if he’s telling you to touch yourself this way to absorb just how good you feel.

“Jav– I,” you swallow, the sparkle of pleasure hitting you with each pass, you need more.  Need a depth to take you under more than the shallowness of this teasing.  “Please,” you whisper, and you’re not sure you could elaborate.  You’re so gone.  It doesn’t land on you, the trust you’re placing in him and how willing he is to hold it.  But it is there without putting words to it.  And Javi?  He is fully aware of the space you’re taking yourself to.  Just for him.

“Yeah?  Is that not enough?  But you’re such a depraved slut I bet you could get off just by doing that, I know you could.  I'll be kind, you’re welcome,” god he’s so cocky, and it’s still so sexy – how can he manage it? “Press your clit between your index and middle finger.  Are you doing it?”

“Mmn’doing it,” you manage, eyes slipping shut – even in the dark, you can only focus on the way his words spill – viscous and sweet – into the telephone.  “Oh, you like being called that, yeah?  Are you my slut?”  “Javi, Javi,” you whimper, pressure at your clit between your fingers you know you’re soaked now, “M’your slut!  Fuck!” you’re panting, sweat forming at the nape of your neck.

“Good girl, princesa.  Squeeze your clit – un poco, just a little.  Can you do that for papí?” and fuck, you haven’t heard him say that, either.  Two firsts in one phone call.  Your body is in overdrive, you can feel wetness slip from your hole over the crease of your ass, against your thighs, “Flick your clit between those two fingers.  Back and forth.  Do it now.  God, listen to you.  Dirty girl wants to cum with her husband snoring in the other room.  Bet that’s the first time you’ve cum in your bed in a long time.”

And you’re pathetic, whimpering like crazy as you flick your fingers back and forth around your clit.  You can feel the swell, how hard the nub of nerves feels – shocks of electricity run through you, you’re so close like this.  The fast motions taking you until–

“Hands off — now.” you gasp, panting against the ledge, not so silently begging for your release.

“I want to hear her.  Middle finger.  Don’t go all the way in.”

So you do as you’re told, your throat dry and rough.  You lean the receiver to your sopping cunt so he can hear the tapping of your hole that’s so soaked it almost hurts.  When you bring your phone back to your ear, you tighten it between your ear and shoulder and Javi is busy singing praises to her before he realises you’re back.  He sounds different.  Possessive.  Just like you wanted him to be last night.

“That fucking cunt.  That’s mine.  That's for me.  Julian called you crazy, but he ate dinner exactly where I made you cream on my fucking kitchen counter last night.  He won’t say shit about you and get away with it.”  He sounds hushed, but rough like this.  Like you can hear him snarl those words at the base of your ear while he takes you from behind.  Your heart picks up at the imagery he’s given you.  The symbolism of his protection of you, and you let the flames take you.

There is no going back.

“Touch yourself.  Two fingers in your cunt, roll that gorgeous clit.  Perfect, messy pussy,” and you can hear it now— the slapping of his skin more intentional than before.

Your two fingers tease your hole, groaning without holding back from the touch and how wet you feel.  And he was right, you were so… messy.  It spreads over your outer labia, your thighs, up to your clit.  All from the sound of his voice, all from his claim over you – how protected you felt.  Desired.  You bite your lip as you work your fingers inside, rolling your sensitive clit in lazy strokes – doing your best to keep the phone close.  Moans drip easily from your wanton mouth.

“Tell me what you’re doing,” you mewl, head spinning from the way his hand is around your throat without even being there to touch you.

“Fuck.  Got my fist around my cock, right at the base before bringing it up.  Stroking at my head.  You have it twitching, bebita.  You make me so fucking hard.  You’d love it.  That slutty mouth would lap up every bit of precum – mierda, fuck.”

Even his muttering sounds sinful, leaving your bottom lip tucked into your mouth, sucking hard at the skin.  Your hole tightens around your fingers and you work yourself to peaks, massaging your clit in deep circles that work in tandem with the repetitious tapping against that spot inside you.

“Faster,” you finally purr, unsure if you’ll find it together – but god, do you want it so bad.  You’re not even sure if it’s a plea or a demand to him, but you leave it.

And he’s secure enough to let you boss him, if only for a moment.

“Fuck.  You too.  Now.  Are you a good girl?”

“Hmmpnh,” you uselessly whimper, nodding to no one.  “I’m a good girl, I’m a good girl–” whining praises over and over, Javi’s grunts got more deliberate, more in time with your puling sounds.  You’re shaking, needing to be sent to your climax, you beg to him in the broken words between exhalations.

“That’s it, bebita – be a good little slut.  Give it up to me – mierda, got my cock throbbing for it.  Wish I was cumming in your perfect little cunt – fuck.  Let go, let me fucking hear it,” there’s a pause as he huffs into your ear, his attempt to find composure, as he grits through his teeth.

“Make my fucking pussy come, now.”

That demand, that ownership is what sends you.  Your body responding to it instantly, you moan – hips lifting off of the bed as you nod.  Nipples standing to attention as your body rolls through waves of pleasure, cunt fluttering around your fingers so tight and rhythmically the phone drops for a moment and you can hear a loud grunt on the other line – one that was dangerously foolish, your name falling from his mouth when you both knew just who was in his house.  You didn’t even care.  Not one part of you was cautious in this moment as you both fell into the throes of this affair.

Your body convulses before its inevitable release.  Your muscles, tense, now relax into a puddle.  You sigh, pulling away from your core and skillfully avoid getting the phone sticky as you put it back to your ear.

As you’re both just a pair of lungs battling breath between the phone connection, you shift in bed, rolling onto your side, the receiver slipping to your other ear.  Savouring the seconds, the feelings of connection.  You realise you lack this with Julian now.  You didn’t notice it before.  All a feeling, and not intellectualised, but it’s palpable, like a looming presence at the bottom of this ocean.

Your thoughts come and go as a yawn finally leaves Javi, and it’s kind of sweet to hear him be soft.  To hear his humanity.

“When will I see you again?” you break the silence timidly, and honestly, despite the quite literal affair happening, you’re surprised the question slips by your lips.

Who was this person Javi brought out in you?

You can recall the times the two of you shared glances in silence before this.  Not so many words were shared, and back then you thought it was due to lack of interest in each other’s lives, but now… now you’re realising it’s because of the volcano bubbling underneath the surface.  The potential you both share.

It was fucked, you’re fucked, and you’re scared.

But you still poke the bear because if you didn’t you knew you would spend the rest of your life curious about the cave it resides in.

Hibernation had to come to an end eventually.

“It can’t be soon,” this upsets him, you can tell, but he is nothing if not observant.  How odd this would look if the two of you started to hang out.  “A week or two, cariño.  We can make phone calls often.  But we have to wait.  Can you wait?”

And you want to tell him you’d wait ages for him, but you don’t.  You force the words back down your throat, and instead offer him a nod even though he cannot see it.

“I can wait, Javi.  I can wait for you.”

“That’s my good girl,” his words make your heart swell with pride, “I’ll call you.” he promises and you want to believe him so you do.

“I’ll call you, too,” fast to say it back.  And you don’t feel an ounce of desperation.  You feel renewed.  Empowered by this.  Confident.

“You should get some sleep, cariño.  Got a husband to fight with tomorrow.  He is not staying here.”

You both laugh as it simmers into comfortable silence.

“Okay…,” you’re reluctant, but you do agree to hang up.

“Goodnight, Javi.”

“Goodnight, ángel.”

You cling to the phone, and he hangs up first.  You’re left with yourself just as you were when you woke up this morning.  Surprised that you feel less guilty than you did earlier in the day, how swiftly your perception has changed of Julian, of your stance with Javier.  All of it.  You knew that you couldn’t just leave your husband at the drop of a hat, not after this much time had been put into the relationship.  But you knew nothing or no one could light you on fire the way Javier Peña did.

Finally latching the phone to the hook, you close your eyes.  The stickiness of your cunt peels your lips apart when you shift, and it’s a reminder of him.  Your skin grows hot, your fingers exploring yourself again – if only to touch, if only to bring him back to life just as he was speaking into your ear moments ago.  “Javi,” you whisper to yourself, nipples still erect from arousal.

And so you go again, with yourself, to make yourself feel good.  Not for Julian, and not for Javier.

For you.

Until your core is shaking, your spent body spreading over the bed when sleep finally takes you.

When was the last time you did that?  When was the last time you spent time on yourself rather than making sure your husband’s pleasure was prioritised?  You weren’t sure, but you didn’t have time to dwell.  Not with your eyelids getting heavy, drowned in your self-gratification.  This was the start of something new.  A new version of yourself actualised.

If anything, you were grateful for Javi’s presence.  Whether he was doing this selfishly or not, this shook you to the core.  He was waking you up.

And you had so much more to learn about yourself.

taglist: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin - comment to be added! if i missed you, please remind me!

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere Artist x GN!Maid-Reader

Julian (or Jules as you nickname him), an esteemed artist in Victorian society, becomes captivated by a forgotten maid who moves through life unnoticed by others. Obsessed with finding ways to capture the adoration he has for you on canvas.

You’d been a maid at the gallery Julian visited, and the reason he returned over and over. He, a man of great status, an esteemed artist too, became drawn to you beyond his own understanding.

On one of Julian’s many visits, he found the courage to speak to you. "You work so hard, yet make it look as graceful as a dance", he murmured, his voice soft but sincere. You were startled—maids weren't meant to be noticed by men of his status. But Julian wasn’t like the others.

It was only after weeks of shared glances, whispered conversation and quiet sketches that Julian dared to ask you for more.

Losing sleep over the way you made him feel, emotions so deep and unexplainable he began going mad over trying to express it. His current models and pieces of art just weren't good enough compared to you and the way you make him feel.

A type of suffocating love he never thought could exist.

“Forgive me for being so forward,” he said, his voice gentle and earnest. “I understand this may come as a shock, but if you’d allow me, I would be honoured if you would be my muse."

Though you were hesitant to overstep and cause a scandal, he promised you everything you could want if you were to only be his muse, he’d give you a place to stay and all you could ask for, you wouldn’t have to be a maid anymore. But then being his muse, turned into friendship, then lovers.

He fell in love with how you so effortlessly inspired his work -but fell harder for how you grounded him as a person. Smitten by the little things- your soft laughter, the gentle way you spoke. He loved the small gestures you made without thinking, the way you’d hum as you worked. He'd notice it all.

While initially hesitant from the intensity of not being spared a glance to having a man tripping over himself at the sight of you -you grew to enjoy his presence. The idea of being someone who inspires him, someone who is at the centre of his world. After living your whole life in the shadows.

...

Many hours a week are sat in his study as he paints you, his work taking on a new life, new meaning that only makes it so much more beautiful.

Julian loves to draw you absentmindedly—it’s almost like an instinct, something that he can't stop even when he's lost in thought. He has many books filled with fast sketches that are almost abstract that he scribbles without even looking at the page, to incredibly detailed sketches that almost look like photos.

Parts of your day are recorded in those books like his own form of videoing you. Some are so attentive they could be made into a seamless stop motion.

Sometimes he even finds himself sitting on the bathroom floor as you bathe, talking to you as he once again absent-mindedly draws. finding inspiration for his next piece.

He’s obsessed with the little details. He gets lost in those details, and every sketch is a desperate attempt to capture your essence. But not necessarily just when he’s drawing either.

When he’s not drawing, Julian traces his fingers over your skin studying every part of you.

His love language is physical touch, though it’s always gentle and respectful. Gently running his fingers through your hair or resting a hand possessively on your waist.

But that doesn't mean he lacks in the other 4 departments. Like how he loves to whisper to you just how much you mean to him.

His feelings for you are intense, to the point of worship, though he doesn’t fully realise how deep his obsession runs, he doesn't do anything to correct it either.

Sometimes that can be overwhelming for you, especially going from such an ignored life to one in a lovely house, a handsome gentleman of a husband and the title of being a muse.

But you can't bring yourself to make him stop, he’s Prince Charming in your eyes.

You don’t see the way he glares or scowls at men who dare talk to you when you accompany him to town or an event. Or how he makes borderline cruel verbal jabs to women who try to take his attention from you even for a moment.

[walkingstackofbooks]

"I can't believe he used to annoy me," said Miles, watching as Julian chattered animatedly with Nerys and Keiko across the room. "Now it's just nice to see him like this again. It's quite the change, isn't it - but then, I guess you've got used to it by now?" He turned to Ezri, smiling. "Clearly, eight months with you have been good for him."

It took a few moment for Ezri to respond, and Miles had no idea what her expression meant. He'd never known her particularly well, and since returning to Earth they'd only exchanged a few words over subspace if she'd walked in on one of his conversations with Julian.

"I don't think I've ever seen him like this," she said eventually.

Well that was unbelievable. Julian was resonating with the sort of energy he always did when he was in love, so Ezri had to be doing something right.

"What do you mean?" he asked, brow furrowing.

"He's so bouncy. And talkative. Usually he's more - I don't know - restrained, I guess? It's suddenly like..." She paused, thinking. "Well, like he's back planning your Alamo battles with you, but more, and for everything - even in the staff meeting earlier! He's been smiling the whole day."

Miles' frown deepened. "That's just Julian being Julian," he said. "I know the war took a lot out of him - it took a lot out of all of us - but..." He trailed off. "I just assumed he'd managed to get back to normal. You've really never seen him like this?"

Ezri shook her head, then stopped herself, wincing a little. "I know Jadzia did?" she said cautiously. "But her relationship with Julian was so different, she always saw him as so much younger than her. And honestly, I try not to pry into her memories of him too much. It doesn't seem fair."

"How would you describe him, then?" Miles asked curiously. "What's usual for you?"

She smiled. "Kind, sweet, gentle. A little awkward, sometimes. Not as much as me, though," she added with a soft chuckle.

"He makes me laugh," she continued, "but I wouldn't call him 'funny'. He's usually quite a quiet, serious person - or not quiet, perhaps, just... reserved? If we're alone, we'll talk for hours, but at gatherings like this, he'll try, but ends up getting kind of distant. That's why it's felt so odd the past two days. He seems almost... manic?"

"Probably just the suprise of seeing us," Miles replied, a little unsettled. Humming in unconvinced agreement, Ezri's gaze returned to watch her partner, who was now allowing Molly to drag him over to inspect the tower she'd been building with Jake.

"It's like he's forgotten to be sad," she said suddenly. "Is that what it is? He seems lighter, in a way."

Miles chuckled nervously. "I can't believe our visit is having that much of an effect on him," he replied. "Has work been busier than normal lately? Maybe he just needed a break."

"No, it's definitely more than that," Ezri responded firmly. "I know Julian. He's--"

"Dad, come and look at my tower!" Molly interrupted, dashing over to their sofa. "Julian said it's the best one he's ever seen!"

"Well, if Julian said that, sounds like you don't need my opinion," Miles teased, causing his daughter to roll her eyes.

"But Julian's just a doctor, you're an engineer."

"I suppose I am," Miles replied. "Sorry, Ezri, do you mind if--"

"Not at all," she said easily, waving him off. "I've... got a lot to think about."

[garf-lover96]

happy anniversary to me and Julian :3 a few months ago i made a post that i will write a fic for the occasion and i DID and i reached the character limit in my google keep note because it was that long. it's almost 4k words!! that's how much i love him guys!! i don't know how i suddenly went from writing little 1k fics to this monstrosity but i'm happy with how it turned out🤞🤞 it's under the cut because it really is huge and also disgustingly mushy, be careful!!.....

i should start titling my fics or something but i don't really want to.. maybe they'll get their titles somewhere in the future

———

Rowan sits in the palace parlor, half sunken into the soft pillows of the sofa. His hand raises to pick at his lips, before the magpie on his shoulder screeches at him and he's forced to drop it back into his lap. The countess sitting across from him chuckles softly and speaks up for the first time in a longer while.

"I do agree with Bluebell. You're much too anxious about the whole situation." Nadia imparts and takes a small sip from her teacup. The magpie seems smug at the fact someone's agreed with her.

"I know, I know that... But are you sure the gift isn't too small?" Rowan asks and starts unconsciously picking at his nails, earning him another loud screech.

"A ring of all things is an accurate gift for an anniversary, I assure you."

"He doesn't even wear jewelry, this is silly..." he mumbles out and rubs his face with a frustrated huff.

Seeing Rowan's distressed expression, Nadia sets her cup down and walks over to sit down by his side. The man straightens up a little as she places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Can you tell me what this is really about?" she inquires with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Maybe it's just... A commitment thing..."

"...Could you elaborate on that?"

"I just mean- Are promise rings the right amount of commitment? Will he think I'm a hypocrite for giving him a ring when I've previously told him that I don't want marriage-?"

"...Dear, do you hear yourself?"

Rowan is about to start picking at his nails again before Bluebell hops down into his hands and he begins to preen the bird instead.

"I sincerely doubt that Julian would even be capable of such a thought. That is, when it comes to you, at the very least."

"I guess..."

"Rowan, I'm certain that Julian hasn't changed his mind on that agreement. He'll love those rings." Nadia assures, carding through his hair gently and putting unruly wisps back into place.

Sighing softly, Rowan rests his head on her shoulder, her fragrant perfume calming his nerves "I know how silly I sound, I'm sorry..."

Nadia chuckles fondly "This is quite an important milestone for you, it's natural to be nervous about it. Especially since this is your first time celebrating a relationship anniversary."

She glances down to notice that the man is now squeezing Bluebell's body rhythmically. Not that the fluffed up bird seems to mind, she seems a little drowsy in fact, as if she's entirely used to it.

"But you know, if you're this worried that I can't imagine just how troubled Julian is. Remind me when do you have to head back?"

Rowan's eyes move towards the big clock standing in the corner of the room. "In a few hours... And yeah, he's probably spiraling right about now. I bet he got me something beautiful though..." he says and smiles softly.

"Would you like to take a stroll in the garden? You could use some fresh air to relax before your rendezvous."

"Yeah, let's do that... Thank you, Nadia." he nods before reaching over to finish his cold cup of tea.

~~~

Portia stumbles through the streets of Goldgrave, Malak constantly pulling at her sleeves, leading her somewhere. She was really hoping to get some garden work done before the raven showed up and caused a big ruckus. All she managed to deduce from the urgent croaks is that Julian apparently needs help with something. The bird dives down to pull on a strand of her hair once more.

"Give me a break! I told you already, my legs aren't as long as Ilya's-" she yanks her lock back from Malak's talons with a small grunt, "Ugh, if you want me to bail him out again, I swear he'll be going to his little date with a black eye."

She's a little confused when the bird perches on top of her head not a few moments later.

"We're stopping? But this is..." she trails off and looks up. This is undeniably the building where she's watched her brother's stage performances before. But why would he be in the community theater of all places today? She makes her way through the entrance and soon enough she can hear some distant labored grunting, followed by a loud frustrated yell. Malak takes off from her head and flies further through the corridor, then audibly crashes into something with a thud.

"Where were you? I was starting to think you've abandoned me." Julian can be heard talking to the raven the closer Portia gets to the backstage. When the scene comes into view, her jaw drops a little.

"You're stealing a piano." Portia's tone isn't questioning in the slightest, somehow this does seem like something he'd do.

Julian straightens up and whips around to face his sister with a mortified expression "Stealing- I'm not stealing, this is a perfectly legal operation! And what in the world are you even doing here?!" his gaze shifts to the raven sitting on top of the said piano "I told you I don't need any help! Traitor..." he huffs hopelessly and leans against the instrument. The longer Portia looks at him, the more she notices just how exhausted he looks.

"...Don't tell me you were trying to carry a piano all by yourself. Where would you even bring it?"

"It's a gift, Pasha! I spent months trying to renovate this old thing so I could give it to Rowan! He's been taking those lessons from Nadia and he's already so good... I wanted him to have a piano of his own at home." he whines out and runs his gloved hand down his face.

"What- Why didn't you tell me that earlier? I obviously would've helped!"

"Because- Because it's my responsibility! I got the gift so now I have to carry it home! And it's fine because I'm sure you have your own chores to do today and I'm strong enough to drag this thing back to the shop myself. Thank you for your concern." having said that, Julian pushes the piano forward and it makes an outrageously loud creak as it moves against the wooden floor.

It makes Portia grimace. She can't bear the thought of the piano being massacred like this any longer.

"Stop! I'm not letting you drag it on the ground all the way there. You'll just ruin it, idiot." she grumbles and walks around the instrument, managing to get a pretty good hold on it from one end. She shoots Julian a meaningful look, urging him to grab the other side.

He sighs in defeat before quickly laying his discarded coat over it and they manage to lift the piano off the ground together. It makes Malak croak in surprise but he doesn't move an inch. Manoeuvering it through all the corridors leading outside is hard work, so they take a break once they've carried it out into the street.

Only when the daylight reaches the piano can all the intricate details finally be seen. Portia runs her hand over the carvings depicting a bunch of wildflowers and animals. The fresh coat of varnish makes the instrument glisten in the sun.

"And you're telling me you're just allowed to walk out with a piece like this? This must be worth a fortune!"

"A fortune is what I spent on getting it into proper shape... The exterior might be beautiful but the insides were all jumbled up. Not that I know much about pianos... I spent a long time trying to find all the necessary experts to fix it." he huffs out again and rests his elbow on top of the instrument, swinging his hand at Malak to shoo him off of it "Ride's over, I'm not letting you scratch it up..."

The bird relents and moves to perch on Portia's shoulder as she circles the piano, her eyes boring into the insane details. She brings the fall board up so she can see the keys as well.

"...Oh my god, is this ivory?"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure it is, yes. It's supposed to be durable, thankfully none of the keys were missing-"

"This is the kind of stuff they have at the palace!" she exclaims and looks at them in awe.

"It's- It's not too much, right? Will he think I'm out of my mind for getting him a piano with ivory keys...?" Julian suddenly seems a little less confident about his present than a second ago. But before his sister is allowed to answer, his eyes dart up and he winces when he notices the sun's position.

"Drat, look at us just standing around here, we don't have much time! We might have to take those tight shortcuts..."

"Maybe we won't have to if you just grab onto the piano, Ilya..."

"Right, yes!" he squares his shoulders, quickly stepping over to take the lead in the piano-carrying assignment. Once they both get a secure hold on the instrument again, they lift it up and start walking through the streets.

In this situation getting some surprised stares from people is inevitable, but Julian is not concerned with that at all. Instead, he keeps glancing up, clearly stressing over whether they'll be able to make it to the shop and carry the gift inside in time, before Rowan returns from the palace.

He glances behind briefly to notice that Malak is still comfortably rested atop Portia's shoulder. Then he speaks up, slight concern apparent in his voice. "Malak, friend, do you think you could check up on Rowan? Er, just to make sure that he's not going to be inconveniently punctual."

The bird seems mildly inconvenienced at the fact that he has to leave his place snuggled into Portia's soft hair but doesn't need much more convincing. Leaving some stray feathers behind, he takes off into the air. Without the ravens frequent croaking, there falls a silence between the siblings. Portia notices Julian's tense shoulders and can't resist to tease him a bit.

"...You know, maybe he will think you're a snob for the ivory keyboard."

"Pasha, don't stress me out!" he yells back at her, trying to hold back a smile at the sound of her jesting giggle.

~~~

While in the air, Malak obediently stays in pursuit of Rowan to distract him if needed, but shortly after spotting him on his way out of the palace, he notices the man seemingly taking the scenic route anyway. Hopping his way along the roofs, the raven notices him stop somewhere in the corner of the town square.

Hugging his knees to his chest, Rowan stares down at particularly stout, shiny beetle. His familiar jumps towards it again but he stops her with an index finger, poking her away.

"I told you it's too fat for you to eat. I don't want you to choke, sweetheart."

A grumpy screech.

"...I'm not going to cut it into pieces either. There are people here."

Another screech.

"What? I'm not tempting you! Can't I just stare at a bug in peace for a moment?" the tension between his brows increases a little as he keeps his eyes on the beetle "I'm not nervous anymore, I just need a second, okay?"

Bluebell hops forward and flops onto her back, trying to distract Rowan.

"Your little baby tantrum won't fix anything, you know."

The magpie seems offended now. She opens her beak threateningly...

"No, hey, don't you dare do that-"

A series of deafening screeches tear through the square as Bluebell tries to put a stop to Rowan's overthinking in her own way. He scoops her up from the ground and starts shushing her frantically.

"Stop screaming! We can go to the shop, you can take the stupid beetle, just don't make a scene!"

She stops immediately and wriggles out of his grasp to pick the beetle up by one skinny, squirming leg. It makes Rowan frown a little.

"...Just make sure to chew it well, please." he mutters and finally continues walking.

~~~

Already inside the shop, the Devoraks try to carry the piano up the stairs and not fall to their deaths in the process. A firm boot planted on the creaking step, Julian pushes forward as Portia leads the way, carefully climbing backwards.

"Just a few more Pasha, you've got this..." he reassures and angles his head so that he can see the short corridor the staircase leads to.

With a series of collective labored groans they manage to pull the piano onto the top floor before almost collapsing against it.

"Now that's a workout! Gosh, I barely feel my calves... And hands... And..." Portia trails off, raising her hand to pull her damp with sweat hair away from her face.

"I think I was seconds away from breaking my spine there..." Julian gasps and quickly pulls his gloves off of his hands, throwing them onto the piano "Just one more... Curve... I swear I'll get you such a nice thank you gift, you're the best sister in the whole wide world..." he seems to be getting a little teary-eyed but he quickly composes himself for the sake of the mission.

Portia seems to nod acknowledingly at her brother's emotional speech as she tilts her head to look downstairs at the sound of slight tapping "I think Malak's back..."

Julian turns around and observes as the raven wanders into the shop through the back door, his talons clicking against the wooden floor. He caws a few times which makes Julian grimace.

"Alright, I have no idea what that meant but I will assume that Rowan is already near... Are you okay to keep going, Pasha?"

She gives him a quick thumbs up and shakes her hands off, then grabs onto the piano as if she didn't just drag a half a ton instrument up some very steep stairs. Carrying it into the bedroom doesn't take near as much work as all the previous routes but once it's sitting in it's designated place, the siblings just slide down to sit on the floor for a short moment.

"You were right, you're always right, I wouldn't have managed without you, Pasha..." Julian weeps out and quickly pulls her into a hug.

"Yes, you would've been dead a hundred times over if it weren't for me." she wraps her arms around him with a grin, feeling just a little lightheaded from all the carrying she did today "I should get going, don't wanna disturb you loverboys." she snorts and pokes at her brother's waist.

"Ah, allow me to escort you then, dear sister!" he gets to his feet—his back cracking loudly—and upon wiping a stray tear from his eye, he pulls her up by the forearms "Good to stand?"

Portia nods. It's a careful walk back down, both of their legs are still quite wobbly after the endeavor. Upon opening the door for her sister, Julian is surprised to find a spooked Rowan on the steps just outside. He staggers back a bit as it suddenly opens.

"Oh, Portia...? What are you doing here?" he asks with growing worry on his face at her disheveled state.

She just smiles and dives in for a hug, making the magpie on his shoulder startle and fly up to the rafters instead "All will make sense in a jiffy! Enjoy your date!" with one last squeeze, Portia takes off, turning around to wave goodbye.

Locking eyes with Rowan, Julian promptly pulls him inside and up into his arms with a beaming smile "Lover, you're here at last!"

"Julian-! I wanted to- Why... Why is your shirt soaked...?" Rowan stares at him with a confused expression, his feet still awkwardly dangling above the ground as his partner holds him.

"Ahaha, I promise to freshen up before our dinner... But what were you going to say?" Julian inquires with a smile and sets him down gently.

"I, uh, wanted to give you my present first because I thought about it way too much and... Just wanted to get that off my chest, you know? Is that okay?" Rowan squeezes Julian's hands gently, looking up at him with an unsure smile.

"Yes, more than okay! I'm dying to see what you thought of."

"Should we go upstairs-?"

"No! Not... Not yet. We, er, can go sit down in the back room, if you'd like."

Rowan widens his eyes with surprise again but doesn't mind going along with the idea. Once they're seated next to each other, he speaks up again "Before you see the gift, I just wanted to say that... Even though we already had that conversation about whether we ever want to take our relationship to the 'next stage' and came to an agreement, I still wanted you to have some kind of confirmation, I guess... I know how important that is for you and I really wanted you to know that I'm very, very serious about this, so..." with one trembling hand and a soft sniff, he fishes out a small pouch out of his vest's pocket and unties the thin string around it. He can feel Julian's eye boring into him as he works on opening it.

"...Hold out your hand, please."

Julian obeys and gives him his hand, palm facing up. His smile is bright with anticipation until Rowan twists his hand gently and takes it into his own instead. A shiny, sliver ring comes into his view, with what seems to be a small, green gemstone embedded in the middle. His jaw drops wordlessly as his partner slides it onto his finger. He inhales a bit before Rowan stops him.

"Don't say anything yet! Just a second!" he quickly reveals a second, matching ring, with the same design as the first one, but the colors seem to be different. It's gold with a red gemstone. Rowan holds it up to the one that's already on Julian's hand.

"These represent us, see? I had the gemstones switched so that the green reminds you of me but you can still wear silver. Ah, and- And you don't have to worry about your gloves either! Yours is actually adjustable so- You can wear it whenever you want!" he raises his eyes to check on his partner's reaction and his nervous smile softens when he sees some tears already streaming down his face, along with a huge grateful smile. Julian takes it upon himself to take the matching ring and slide it onto Rowan's finger before pulling him into a very tight hug.

"God, you really thought of everything... Thank you, love, they're so beautiful-" he voice cracks just a little before he buries his face in Rowan's hair, who's already exhaling in relief because the gift did turn out to be a success.

"There's just one more thing, actually." Rowan gently dries Julian's teary cheeks and makes him look down at their hands again "I'll let you do the honors. Touch one of the stones, hm?"

Once he gently taps his own ring, the other one lights up in a soft glow. It makes Julian gasp softly "This is the single most romantic thing you've ever done, I'm pretty sure."

"I can think of a few more... And it's a simple enchantment, really..." Rowan mumbles with a shy smile, still observing the rings that are finally in their rightful places.

"I'd love to just stare at these forever but... Now I really want you to see what I got for you. You're going to love it." he lowers his head to leave a sweet kiss on Rowan's lips before helping him to his feet.

They walk up the stairs together until Julian covers Rowan's eyes in front of the entrance to their bedroom. It makes Rowan tilt his head in confusion a little.

"Just keep walking, darling, I've got you."

"Yes, okay..."

They stop in the middle of the room and Julian makes Rowan face the direction of his gift.

"Are you ready?"

"I hope I am." Rowan answers with a small chuckle. When Julian's hands drop from his eyes to his shoulders, his eyes settle on the piano at last.

His reaction is a little delayed, but once it kicks in, it's nothing like Julian's controlled few sobs. He bites down on his lower lip and absolutely breaks down. The thick tears streaming down his eyes make it hard to keep his eyes on the piano. It makes Julian worried for a split moment.

"Er, these are happy tears, yes? You haven't given up on the art of music, right?" he asks and steps in to take Rowan's face into his hands as he keeps sobbing loudly. He only manages to nod firmly and pull him into a hug to keep crying into his shirt.

"A whole fucking piano... You're absolutely insane..."

"Now, there's the reaction I was waiting for! I was a tad worried that you were just pretending to like it." he remarks cheekily and runs his fingers through Rowan's hair gently, "I should mention that I couldn't decide on what little bench I should get to go along with it so we can go buy one tomorrow, if you'd like. There's a ton of colors of the cushioning to choose from, apparently."

"Damn it, I should've bought you a vielle instead... We could've been playing a duet right now..." Rowan weeps, attempting to dry his face while the tears just keep flowing.

"Oh we'll play many duets yet, dear. And anyway, you can get one for me on our next anniversary."

"And let me guess, to upstage the piano you'll get me a boat next year...?"

"Oh shush, don't spoil it!" Julian rolls his eyes playfully "We'll have time to talk about the future during our dinner which we don't want to be late to, eh?"

"Yeah, future... We should start getting ready." Rowan wipes is eyes into his sleeve and pulls Julian's face down gently to kiss him "Happy anniversary. I love you."

"I love you too, Rowan. Happy anniversary."

———

according to my screentime app, i spent 2 hours on this yesterday ALONE and almost 12 hours in general during the past 2 weeks. waow❤️ i have a drive

AND FUCKING TUMBLR POSTED THIS WHEN I WAS CLICKING "SAVE AS DRAFT" I SWEAR I'M GOING TO GO ON A RAMPAGE

[effloradox]

Forehead kisses with Thomas Thorne?

I am not immune to the urge to give this man a kiss on the forehead 🥺

Also I combined this with a request asking for Thomas with the prompt ‘I thought you’d like some company’, I think it fit quite well!

Life in Button House was almost always the same no matter the day. You’d only been a resident of the house for a few years after a rather nasty accident on the grounds but you tried to make the best of your living situation (if you’ll excuse the obvious flaws with the expression). The other residents had been quick to welcome you into their daily routines and with time you got used to everyone’s quirks. Eventually you could ignore Lady Button screaming as she fell out of a window every night and you got used to things like Julian’s crassness and Kitty’s eagerness.

You hadn’t believed in life after death in your previous life so the last thing you’d expected was to fall in love during your unexpected afterlife. Thomas had been so shy when you first died; he’d barely been able to string a sentence together in your presence, so different from the poet that waxed lyrically every moment he was able to that you’re used to now. You’d managed to do many things during your life but true love seemed to have evaded you until after your death. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall in love with Thomas, and it had taken him even less time. Waking up next to him had become part of your daily routine so easily that you now couldn’t imagine him not being there with you every morning.

Things hadn’t changed much in the weeks since Heather passed until a new car had pulled up on the driveway of the house, and with it some new living residents. The new owners had put most of the others on edge though, that much was clear. You’d overheard some of their plans for the house and they made a lot of sense to you, some of them had been things you’d briefly mentioned before you’d died; but to some of the others the suggestions had been an affront. Thomas had seemed particularly upset about the mention that the library be repurposed into a recreation room; he'd disappeared not long after hearing that.

You’d given Thomas his space initially but after a few hours without his presence you’d set about looking for him. You’d checked all his usual haunts, leaving his sighing place until last in the hopes that his mood hadn’t dropped to that resort. You weren’t particularly surprised to find him there if you were being honest with yourself but it pained you to know that it was troubling him to that extent. You poked your head through the door, watching him for a moment before stepping through the door. You’d been about to announce your presence when the man in question had turned quite unexpectedly, letting out a small shriek when he spotted you.

“Good lord!”

“Sorry!” His expression softened towards you once he’d calmed down, panic no longer evident on his face.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I thought you’d like some company?”

“From you? Always, my love.” You appeared at his side in an instant, his arm wrapping around your waist automatically. It doesn’t take long until you’re settled in his lap, both of you watching the new residents moving things out of their car.

“The others have a plan to try and scare the new owners away.” Thomas let out a soft noise to acknowledge your comment, his eyes still trained on the new couple. “Julian’s practising moving things with his ability to see if he can unnerve them.”

“And you?”

You hadn’t thought much of your phone being on your person when you died, whilst you still have it it’s not like you can use it for much. Just making notes, taking scenic pictures, and playing the few games you had downloaded that work without an internet connection. What it had left you with was an ability similar to Robin’s wherein you could mess with electronic devices to a certain degree. It would definitely be a useful skill if you decided you wanted the couple gone. You'd heard Julian mention it when they’d been plotting to scare the living away and it had been part of why you left to go and find Thomas.

“I understand why them being here upsets some of the others, and that some of their plans have upset you. But, I don’t think it’s such a bad thing. Wouldn’t it be nice if they did make the house look good again?”

“I suppose.” You can hear the uncertainty in Thomas’ tone and it’s all you can do to press a soft kiss to his forehead. The effect is instantaneous as you practically felt the tension seep out of his body, the frown lines you'd kissed disappearing in seconds. The two of you remain on the windowsill until you hear Julian shouting your name from somewhere in the house, no doubt to enlist you into trying to scare the new couple. You begrudgingly lift yourself from Thomas’ lap, taking one of his hands in yours as you move to walk towards the door.

“Come with me?” You can see in his eyes that he doesn’t want to, but he stands anyway and you can’t resist the urge to lift your entwined hands to place a kiss on his hand. The tender gesture turns him bashful as he struggles to make eye contact with you. It takes a moment for him to compose himself and you watch as he seems to steel himself before he speaks.

“Being your slave, what should I do but tend upon the hours, and times of your desire?” It takes you a moment to place his words, you’re sure you’ve heard them before and it takes your brain a few seconds to connect them to who wrote them.

“Shakespeare?” You know you’ve guessed correctly when Thomas’ face lights up like the sun. His smile is one of your favourite things about him, it never fails to make your heart flutter and this time is no exception.

“Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind; still constant in a wondrous excellence.” It’s Thomas’ turn to lift your hands as he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Nothing good can last forever though. The moment is ruined when you hear a frustrated sounding Julian shouting your name once again, only this time he sounds infinitely closer. You can’t help but sigh with frustration at the interruption.

“Let’s go and find the others shall we?”

“Lead the way my dear.”