#thank you Paper Apricot

[whirlwindav]

Tagged by @the-paper-apricot . Hi 👋🏼 you're so awesome and amazingly talented! Thank you for tagging me 💕

Rules: answer and tag people you want to get to know better and/or catch up with!

Favourite colour: They’re all wonderful but I’m particularly fond of Blush Pink, Forest Green and Burnt orange.

Last song: 'Don’t Let It Bring You Down’ by Paul McCartney and wings. 🪽

Last movie: I’m always watching new movies, my latest viewing was Election (1999).

Currently reading: The Night Circus By Erin Morgenstern.

Currently watching: Sadly nothing at the moment but I’m eyeing Mad Men. 👀

Currently craving: Dark chocolate covered figs and a good rest.

Tea or coffee: I cannot choose between two legends! If I’m craving tea, I’ll have a matcha or mint tea. But if I want a coffee then a hazelnut truffle mocha is a must.

I tag @sleeper9 & @jarsfullofstarrs no pressure, just think y’all are great! 😊 💌

[tavolgisvist]

Hold Me Tight

‘Hold Me Tight’ was an early Lennon-McCartney original, written at the latter’s home in Forthlin Road, Liverpool, and featured in The Beatles’ live set from 1961 to 1963.

Another Lennon and McCartney song that became part of their Cavern repertoire was ‘Hold Me Tight’, a McCartney number that Paul and John worked on together. It was written in Forthlin Road, but not recorded until the With the Beatles album. PAUL: When we first started it was all singles and we were always trying to write singles. That's why you get lots of these 2 minute 30 seconds songs; they all came out the same length. ‘Hold Me Tight’ was a failed attempt at a single which then became an acceptable album filler.

(Paul McCartney, Many Years From Now by Barry Miles)

Monday I I February 1963 Studio Two, EMI Studios, London: From 7.30 to 10.45 pm: 13 takes of 'Hold Me Tight' (this song would remain unreleased until a re-make recorded on 12 September 1963 was included on the group's second album With The Beatles)… … Thursday 12 September 1963 Studio Two, EMI Studios, London: The recordings were made between 2.30 and 6.30 pm along with ten takes of a re-make of `Hold Me Tight', first attempted for Please Please Me on 11 February but completed more successfully this time around. (The Complete Beatles Chronicle by Mark Lewisohn, 1992)

One the followinf afternoon, September 18, I returned to Montagu Square. Yoko opened the front door and led me into the living room where I observed John walking aimlessly around the room as if in a kind of daydream, half humming and half singing The Beatles' "Hold Me Tight" as if to the air ("Tell me I'm the only one and then I might never be the lonely one")

(17 + 18 September 1968, Montagu Square in Days that I'll remember: Spending Time with John Lennon and Yoko Ono by Jonathan Cott, 2013)

That was Paul’s. Maybe I stuck some bits in there – I don’t remember. It was a pretty poor song and I was never really interested in it either way.

(John Lennon, 1980, All We Are Saying by David Sheff)

It feels so right now, hold me tight, Tell me I'm the only one, And then I might, Never be the lonely one. So hold me tight, to-night, to-night, It's you, you you you, oh, oh, oh, oh. Hold me tight, Let me go on loving you, To-night to-night, Making love to only you, … Don't know what it means to hold you tight, Being here alone tonight with you, It feels so right now.

(Hold Me Tight, With the Beatles,1963)

ML: What about 'Hold Me Tight'? You tried that for the Please Please Me LP but it didn't work out. PM: I can't remember much about that one. Certain songs were just 'work' songs, you haven't got much memory of them. That's one of them. ML: I suppose that when you've had about 500 compositions published you can't remember then all. PM: That's what I mean. I remember the name of the tune. Some of them … I wouldn't call them fillers but they were 'work' songs. You just knew that you had a song that would work, a good melody. 'Hold Me Tight' never really had that much of an effect on me. It was a bit Shirelles.

(Paul McCartney, The Complete Beatles Recording Sessions by Mark Lewisohn, 1988)

I've waited all my life for you Hold me tight Take care of me and I'll be right Hold me tight, hold me tight Hold me tight, hugga me right Hold me tight, squeeza me tight Hold me tight, hugga me right Hold me tight, hold me tight, hold me tight You won't be going out tonight Candlelight Make love to me and make it right Hold me tight, hold me tight...

(Hold Me Tight, Red Rose Speedway, 1973)

[tinyluvs]

Being spencer’s girlfriend and meeting the team for the first time? I think it would be cute!!!! 🫶🏻

it WOULD be super cute! thank you so much! i got huge sibling vibes from the team while writing this so hope that’s okay too!

the tray holding yours and your boyfriends coffee wobbles slightly in your hand as the elevator doors ping open, giving you full view of the bau offices, your eyes widening when you realise just how big it was

caught up with staring you almost forget to actually step out of the elevator, the doors sliding shut just as you manage to pass through them, somehow keeping hold of the coffee's as you do

suddenly it dawns on you that you don't really know where to find spencer. big glass doors separate you from the offices and people whizz up and down the hallway behind you, none of them paying the slightest bit of attention to you

you use your shoulder to push the doors open just enough to squeeze through and when you turn you realise the office is mostly empty, a few people sat at desks but luckily, spencer is there too, stood by what you assume is his desk, looking down at a chess board

"hi," you greet him quietly as you walk up to him, your voice muffled by your, his, scarf that's snug around your neck, "spence," you say slightly louder when he doesn't acknowledge you

he turns, looking thoroughly confused, his features softening when he notices you just feet away from him, "hey honey, what are you doing here?" he asks, rushing to take the small tray of coffee out of your hands before you drop it

pulling at the scarf you start unraveling it from around your front, "well you forgot your lunch, so i was going to bring it but then i also forgot it," you explain, cheeks reddening, "so instead i got pastries and coffee" you finish, waving a paper bag in his direction with a smile

spencer chuckles at you, "thank you," he wraps an arm around you, pulling you in, his lips pressing against your forehead, "is it snowing outside?" he asks, pulling away, his eyes darting to the window and then back at you

"how'd you know?" you question, head titling slightly

gentle fingers push your baby hairs back, "you have snow in your hair sweetheart," he says softly, his fingers dropping to wrap around your wrist, pulling you into the small space by his desk, "here, sit" he reaches over to grab an empty wheelie chair from the desk next to his

with a soft sigh you fall back into the seat, it rolls back slightly, the back hitting the edge of the desk, "where is everyone?" you ask, watching your boyfriend sit directly in front of you, your knees bumping his

"uh," he looks around while you pull pastries from the bag, "they must all be on lunch" he comes to a conclusion with a slight shrug, "it's never usually this quiet"

you slide the bag over to him and pull your knees up to your chest before balancing your croissant on your knee while you turn to grab your coffee, making sure you have the one with less sugar in it

slowly your chair starts to spin, spencer's eyes widening slightly as it does. he shuffles closer, extending his legs either side of you, holding you in place, "where did you get these?" he asks, eyeing up his apricot danish which already has a bite missing

"the market," you answer with a nod, "we have to go there this week, please," you smile softly, knowing full well he would never dream of saying no to you

spencer's eyes flicker up, behind you and then back to you, "of course, honey" he says as other voices start to fill the office space, "they're back"

your eyes widen at him, not daring to look over your shoulder at the people. somehow you sink further into your chair, the huge scarf falling around you like a blanket. meeting the bau was inevitable but not right now, not while you have flakes of pastry over your leggings and snow soaking your hair

"hey guys," spencer smiles slightly as people start to wander over. in your head you start naming them, emily and jj come over first, david and aaron on their tails and behind them, penelope with derek's arm thrown around her shoulder

"hey kid, you didn't tell us you were expecting company," david says, standing behind your boyfriend, hands on his shoulders while the older man smiles at you

"well actual-"

"aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" derek says, teasing, like a sibling would. spencer scowls at him, though there's no heat behind it, causing you to giggle into your coffee

you can tell spencer contemplates just saying no but eventually he sighs, "honey, this is the bau," he gestures at his colleagues and you stifle a laugh, "guys, this is my girlfrien-"

"girlfriend?!" penelope shrieks, cutting spencer off. she shakes derek off of her to move closer, "oh my, you're gorgeous! how long? why didn't i know?" she finishes, whacking spencer on the shoulder

aaron and david pat your boyfriend on the back, like fathers would before brushing past, sending you gentle smiles as they do, retreating back to their offices.

the girls, plus morgan, pull up their own chairs, forming a sort of semi circle in front of you. "so, spill," emily says, gesturing between you and spencer

"what do you want to know," spencer replies, ripping an iced bun in half. he offers you the bigger bit, smiling to himself when you ooh excitedly.

jj sighs, exasperated but still light hearted, "how you met, how long you've been together, everything spence, c'mon"

"we met at a farmers market, he accidentally ran into me, spilt hot," you shoot a look at your boyfriend who stares at his lap with a slight smile, "chocolate down me but then he bought me flowers to say sorry and i was a goner from there," you explain

penelope opens her mouth but spencer beats her to it, "sunflowers"

"that was," you trail off, thinking, "just over a year ago now" you know spencer too well, already looking at him, eyebrow raised, "go on"

"four hundred and two days and counting" he says with a grin, leaning over slightly to brush crumbs off of your scarf

derek holds his hands up, "hold on, you've had a girlfriend for over a year and never thought to mention it" he says, the others nodding in agreement

"aaron and david knew," you slide into the conversation, throwing spencer under the bus, he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“why would you say that?” spencer asks you desperately, you shrug and sit back, watching as jj, emily and morgan burst into chatter, offended that they weren't told while penelope silently scoots over to you

"is that the scarf i made him?" she asks and you nod, knowing it was her christmas gift to him last year, "ohmygod, i'm going to make you a matching one, don't argue, you won't win!" she says all smiley

"when were you going to tell us? at your wedding?"

"no! it jus-"

"boy, do not say it just didn't come up, do not make me smack you in front of your girlfriend"

jj stands, rolling her eyes at the boys arguing while emily jumps in every now and then, fuelling the fire, "great to meet you, we will arrange a girls night soon"

"oh yes, of course! lovely to meet you, finally" you laugh before she wanders away from the scene still unfolding, "are they always like this?" you ask penelope, offering her the bag of goodies

"oh you're my new favourite person," she hums, taking a donut from the bag, "and yes, they're always like this, welcome to the chaos, enjoy your stay"

leaning back in your seat to fully observe, you scoff, "oh i will"

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Bittersweet Symphony: Chapter 2.

"You're so beautiful like this," You looked over at the man sitting at his desk, a small smile across his face, illuminated by the small lamp. "Like what? Sleep deprived, haven't showered in 3 days, living off energy drinks and spite?" You joked, shifting a bit self consciously on the leather couch. Rafael gave a small chuckle, "Like you. Looking at you like this, I don't think you've ever looked so beautiful,"

“You need to eat,”.

Carisi’s voice next to you brought you out of your self-induced misery. The cursor on the computer screen blinked a few times before you turned to face your partner. “I ate,” you argued, pulling out a packet of rice paper biscuits.

“You know, when my sister was pregnant, there was this little bakery a few blocks from her apartment that made these scones with ginger and chamomile. I’ll see if they still make them and bring them over some time.”

You smiled weakly at his thoughtfulness, but your stomach turned at the thought of food. “Thanks, Sonny, but I’m fine. Really. Me and food aren't really getting along at the moment.”

Carisi’s eyes softened with concern. “You need to eat,” he repeated gently. “It’s not just about you anymore.”

You sighed, knowing he was right. The stress from the ongoing case had been overwhelming, leaving you nauseous and exhausted. All you wanted was to go into the back room and sleep the rest of the day away. Just as you were about to respond, Carisi reached out and took the packet of rice paper biscuits from your hand, replacing them with a granola bar from his pocket.

“At least try this,” he urged. “It’s got nuts and dried fruit. Better than those biscuits. More nutritious for you and the baby.”

You took the granola bar, unwrapping it slowly. The sweet, nutty apricot smell was surprisingly appetizing. You took a tentative bite, and to your relief, it went down easier than expected.

“Better?” Carisi asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Thanks, Sonny.”

He smiled, the worry lines on his face easing. “You know I’m here for you, right? Whatever you need, just let me know. I'll bring some more of those over to you later on.”

“I know,” you said softly. “And I appreciate it. More than you know.”

He patted your shoulder gently. “Good. Now, let’s take a five-minute break. We’ve been at this for hours, and you need to relax.”

You nodded, grateful for the reprieve. The two of you walked to the break room, where Carisi made a pot of herbal tea. As you sat together, sipping the warm tea, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

“You’re a good friend, Sonny,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

He chuckled. “Just doing my job. Can’t have my partner running on empty, especially now.”

The sincerity in his words touched you deeply. You knew he wasn’t just talking about the job; he genuinely cared about your well-being, you knew that all he wanted was what was best for you and the small being inside you. The past few weeks he had been the one constant in your life, from the moment you told Liv and the look of shock on her face "Is it-?", to Amanda giving you tips and offering you her daughters old baby clothes "I know you've only just gone into your second trimester but its better to be over prepared then under prepared trust me,".

“Thanks for looking out for me,” you said, feeling a surge of gratitude.

“Anytime,” Carisi replied with a warm smile. “We’re in this together. I told you this. It's you, me, the fetus in there and even Barba if he ever gets his head out of his ass” There was a silence that fell between you, and you knew what was coming next, "Have you heard from him?" You paused mid chew,

the granola bar suddenly feeling like lead in your mouth. You took a slow sip of tea, trying to buy yourself a moment to compose your thoughts. “No, I haven’t,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Carisi’s expression was a mix of concern and frustration. “It’s been weeks, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, avoiding his gaze. The pain of Rafael’s absence was a constant ache in your chest. “I thought he’d come around by now, but… nothing.”

Carisi sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I know he’s got his reasons, but this isn’t fair to you. Or the baby. Have you asked Liv if she had heard from him?” You gave a small shrug, "Lets be real for a moment, if she had heard from him she would still leave it up to him to come to me. She wouldn't tell me,"

You nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I just don’t understand how he can be so distant. I thought we were in this together.”

“People react to things in different ways,” Carisi said gently. “But that doesn’t make it any easier for you.”

“I just wish he’d talk to me,” you murmured, feeling the familiar wave of sadness wash over you. “I don’t even know if he wants to be involved anymore. I feel like my whole life is on pause waiting for him. Whether it be waiting for him to call me, or to come back or something. I feel like I'm just stuck in this space and I can't even move on from him until I get some type of closure”

Carisi reached out, taking your hand in his. “Listen, no matter what happens with Rafael, you’re not alone. You’ve got me, and you’ve got the squad. We’ll get through this together.”

“Thank you, Sonny,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” he replied with a reassuring smile. “But I’m here for you, every step of the way.”

<:>

Later that evening, as you sat alone in your apartment, the silence was deafening. You picked up your phone, scrolling through old messages from Rafael, trying to make sense of his sudden withdrawal. Your heart ached with longing and confusion. Finally, you decided to call him, hoping to break the silence.

The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail. You took a deep breath and left a message, your voice trembling. “Rafael, it’s me. I just… I need to know what’s going on. Please, call me back. We need to talk.”

You hung up, feeling a mix of relief and dread. You had put yourself out there, and now all you could do was wait. As the minutes turned into hours, the weight of uncertainty settled heavily on your shoulders. <:>

The next morning, you arrived at the precinct feeling more exhausted than usual. Carisi noticed immediately, his brow furrowing with concern. “Any news?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head, trying to keep your emotions in check. “No. Nothing.”

He sighed, pulling you into a comforting hug. “I’m sorry. But remember, we’re here for you. Whatever happens, you’re not alone.”

As the day wore on, you threw yourself into work, trying to keep your mind off the unanswered questions and unspoken words. But every time your phone buzzed, your heart skipped a beat, hoping it was Rafael.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that you finally received a text. Your hands shook as you opened the message.

“Can we meet? - Rafael”

<:>

You couldn’t stop the constant twisting and turning of your stomach. Despite how hungry you felt- the rumbling in your stomach reminding you that you’ve barely eaten anything all day-you couldn’t help the small gag that came over you when the coffee was brought to your table.

God you felt so angry.

The white hot anger that twisted and turned in your stomach with every breath you took. You wanted to yell, you wanted to scream, you wanted to shake him and ask him why you weren’t good enough.

Why did he abandon you?

The silence between you and the man in front of you made your heart ache, conversation between you both used to flow so easily but now, now you couldn’t find a single word to say to him. You knew there was so much you wanted to say, to tell him. There was so many questions you wanted to ask him. So many Why’s you needed answers to, but nothing could come out of your dry lips.

“Is it mine?”.

The words left his mouth quietly, as if he was ashamed for asking. Your head shot up, meeting his brown eyes with your own, the question lingering in the air between you.

Is it mine?

Those words made you feel a hatred you hadn’t ever felt towards Rafael Barba. Not when you first met, not when you would be left red-faced after a lashing from the former ADA, not ever.

“What do you mean is it mine? Of course it’s yours. There isn’t anyone else I’d-“ you swallowed deeply, looking back into the brown liquid inside the cup before pushing it away from you, the smell making you want to regurgitate what little food Carisi managed to shove down your throat before you came.

“Where were you?” You heard your voice break, you wished that you had gotten a glass of water in before starting this conversation. The tears started welling up in your eyes, “I needed you and you weren’t there. Not just for this but for so much more. I woke up, and all you had left me was a note. No one had known where you had gone and I thought-“ You swallowed deeply and began picking at your nails, an anxious trait you had inherited from your grandmother, “I don’t even think it matters anymore. You made your choice,” You stopped picking your nails and looked up, seeing him look at you with an indescribable sadness across his face.

“Of course it matters. I hurt you and for that nothing I do can make up for it. After what happened I couldn’t put you through that. Could you have really been with someone who was labelled a baby killer?” He gave a sarcastic scoff, “I love you. I could never have asked you to give up your career to come with me. To run away with me,”

“But I would have,” You didn’t hesitate to interject, “If you would have asked me to resign and come live in the middle of nowhere with you then I would have,” Your voice rose slightly earning glares from the few patrons in the cafe, “But you took that choice from me thinking you were doing some noble shit. And now I’m pregnant, trying to make decisions that I can’t make by myself. I was alone, I was heartbroken and you weren’t there,”

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t. But I’m here now, I’m here to support you whatever you choose to do,” He went to reach across the table for you but you moved away. The thought of the man you once loved touching you made your skin crawl, you saw who he was and it made you feel sick.

His hand moved back to his cup, “Are you keeping it?”

You let out a small sigh and nodded, “Yep. I don’t-I don’t think I could go through with it. I thought about it, especially since you made it pretty clear you want nothing to do with me, but this is what I’m doing. I'm just over 14 weeks now, so either way this is where we're at. Whether it be with you as co-parents or without you,”

“I was hoping we could talk about that?”

You raised a single eyebrow, motioning for him to continue.

“There wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t think about you, or what you were doing. I never stopped loving you,”

“Yeah you did. You stopped loving me the day you walked out. I’m not doing this again. I let you in, it took us so long to get where we were. It took years for us to be together and you threw it away because of your ego and your assumptions. I won’t make the same mistake again,” You reached into your small black purse, ruffling around for some bills for the untouched decaf.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll pay,” Rafael stated simply.

You stood up, a bit unstable in your feet as vertigo hit; you paused for a moment before turning to face the man across from you, “The difference between you and me is that when I said I’d love you forever I meant it. You just don’t seem to get it, what you’ve done. You think that you can come back and walk into my life and nothing has changed. But Rafael everything has changed; everything has changed between us. Do you know what I think? I don’t think you came back here for me, I think you came back for something else. Otherwise where were you weeks ago when I called you?” For the first time since you've known him, there was no words which had left his mouth. No sarcasm or sass, no sincerity or words that could make your heart stop in your chest. There was just silence from him. A silence which made your heart break and your decision final. "Did Liv call you here?" You asked with an air of finality, your voice trembling but resolute. You needed to know, even if it shattered the last remnants of hope you clung to.

Rafael’s face contorted with a mix of guilt and sorrow. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The silence between you stretched, thick and suffocating.

“That’s what I thought,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him. The reality of the situation washed over you, leaving you feeling hollow.

“Please, let me explain,” Rafael finally managed, his voice barely audible. “Liv did call me. She told me about your condition, how you were struggling. She thought I should know. But I came back because I needed to see you, to try and make things right.”

You shook your head, a bitter smile forming on your lips. “You had every opportunity to come back on your own. But it took Liv calling you to get you here. That says it all, doesn’t it?”

“I know I failed you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I thought I was doing the right thing, protecting you from my mess, but all I did was hurt you more. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t change what happened,” you replied, the anger and hurt bubbling up again. “Sorry doesn’t change the fact that you abandoned me when I needed you the most. I can’t trust you, Rafael. Not anymore.”

He looked down at his hands, clasped tightly around his coffee cup. “I understand. I just… I want to be there for our child. I want to make things right, if you’ll let me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I appreciate that you want to be involved now, but it’s too late for us. I can’t go back to the way things were. But for the sake of our child, we can try to co-parent. We can try to make this work for them.”

Rafael nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.”

You stood up, feeling a strange sense of relief mixed with sadness. “We’ll see. But for now, I need some space. I need to figure out how to move forward from this.”

He rose as well, looking at you with a mixture of regret and hope. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

You turned and walked away, leaving Rafael standing there in the café. As you stepped outside, the cool air hit your face, and you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting off your shoulders. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you knew you had the strength to face whatever came next.

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART MASTERLIST

Don't Fear The Reaper (Part Four/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: In attempts to escape the continued teasing about your small mishap the previous day, and the unwarranted grand display of roses sent anonymously to you that morning, you find yourself down by the docks of Small Heath where you would attempt to escape not the playful banter from your colleagues but the heavy footsteps of a man following you, when an unexpected individual conveniently comes to your aid. Your boss, Tommy.

Warnings: Language, supernatural themes, visions, manipulation of time, angst, fluff, smut, stalking, controlling behaviour, dark romance, violence, manipulation, obsessiveness, dark!tommy (This is a dark fic, please read the warnings before continuing)

Word Count: 3577

"Early bird catches the worm" Polly said winking to you as she blew out the matchstick she had just used to light one of the many candles now scattered throughout the room whilst you walked through the offices early the next morning, Intent on making up for your tardiness from the previous day.

" Something like that" you smiled back, taking off the many layers of attire you had dressed yourself in an attempt to keep the bitter frost that had descended on the city from numbing every finger and toe you wished to keep intact. That, and a keen display to every resident of Small Heath you was adamant knew of your little mishap yesterday morning that you wasn't a woman that goes flaunting her bare legs willy-nilly to any Tom, Dick and Harry.

"Ladies" Ada said, walking through with a giggling Ethel and Betsy following behind her. "Save me from them" She whispered to you, thankful for your presence and the diversion you gave from Ethel's ever expanding list of profanities.

" Getting brutal out there already" Ethel commented, rubbing her hands together as everyone turned to face her, pleasantly surprised by the lack of artistic flare in her choice of words. " So cold it would make any fuckers bollocks shrink back up" she said, running over to the burning candle Polly had lit as she hovered her trembling hands over the warm orange flame. Never mind. "What?" Ethel asked, oblivious to everything but the four pairs of eyes now staring back at her.

" Two minutes..." Polly said pointing at Ethel who was now rolling her eyes at the Shelby matriarch and everyone else that was giving her disapproving shakes of their heads. "... I counted" Polly finished, placing a large washed out jar of Robertson's apricot jam on her desk with a thud. " Profanity pot. Has your name written on it, right there. Eth-el" Polly smiled, turning it to show her as Ethel opened her mouth to say something undoubtedly crude before she realised pay day was two weeks away and she'd never make it that far.

"I will be taking a vow of silence from this day forth" Ethel commented with her head held high, slowly pushing the glass jar out of sight behind a flower pot on her desk as Polly arched her brow." In thanks to the almighty, as the brides of Christ do" she said turning the document gracefully in front of her, a small dramatic sigh of reflection leaving her lips at her sudden founded faith, the same devotion that had seen her never step another foot in church since the day she got dunked by the priest on her baptism almost twenty five years ago.

" Bloody hell" Polly said, crossing her arms as Ethel cleared her throat, nodding to the pot that Polly was now wading through her pockets to find a shilling for.

"Oi oi!" John said as he strolled through the offices making a swift beeline for your desk, deliberately sitting on the pile of folders you intended on filing. " No show for us this morning Y/N?" he teased as you pulled the papers from under his rather plump bum. "Ay up" he winked, turning the tooth pick in his mouth as you rolled your eyes exceptionally high in response to his playful remarks.

"Alright darling?" Arthur commented, wrapping his arm around John's shoulders whilst he straightened his moustache out, a small smirk settling on the corner of his lips as you waited for him and everyone else to continue their badgering of you.

"Y/N" Michael sauntered over, cap in hand with a grin on his face like some over-zealous school boy. Oh, for fuck sake. Were they all waiting for you to go into a song and dance and finish off where things had ended the previous day? Diamond encrusted nipple pasties and feathers included?

"Delivery for Miss Y/L/N" came a small voice from behind the three gormless muppets in front of you.

" Yes, here" you said, parting Arthur and John to see a young boy standing with a bouquet of a dozen red roses in his hand, his eyes barely visible above the large arrangement of fresh flowers.

" Are you the girl that..." The young shop boy started to say before John put his hand over his mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence as your eyes narrowed in on the likely culprit behind all the stares you had received that morning on your way to work.

" John boy 'ere's got a big mouth, ain't that right John?" Arthur sniffed, patting his brother's shoulder as he turned to face him.

" That's not all I've got that's big love" the third in line to the Shelby throne said winking to you, a cheeky smile dimpling his rounded cheeks.

" Give over! I've seen your todger" Arthur laughed as an intense argument between them both as to the specifics of when, and if that event had even occurred ensued. Arthurs detailed description of John's preference to being stark naked from an early age solidifying the date said unfortunate event took place, resulting in the third-youngest brother to swear on each of his siblings lives that he was now, sizeably endowed.

"Thank you" you said with a sigh of relief at the welcome end to their bickering as you reached over the desk to take the bouquet from the poor boy whose mouth was still muffled by John's forgetful hand when your eyes shot up to see Tommy leaning against the doorway, a cigarette hanging loosely from the corner of his lips. Shit." No card?" You looked nervously at the boy who simply shook his head in response as Tommy's piercing stare heated your cheeks to an unfortunate shade of red. This was the last thing you needed, an unwarranted gesture sabotaging the understanding you had both come to the previous day in his office.

" Well that's not bloody fair!" Betsy huffed as Ethel bit her bottom lip in an attempt to desperately hold back her own thoughts on the extravagant gift and the vow of silence she was already close to breaking.

" Bit creepy, don't you think? No message, no idea who it's from" you said to the room whilst you abruptly stood up, smoothing down your dress before swiftly turning on your heel and marching over to the bin next to Tommy to discard of the large arrangement of flowers, intent on showing your boss exactly where you stood on the matter.

" Looks like you have a secret admirer love" Tommy smirked as he subtly tilted his head to get a better look at you as you bent down to pick up the scattered petals that had fallen at his feet in your dramatic display of loyalty. " Wonder who?" Tommy quietly mused to you looking over your shoulder, subtly jerking his head up to Michael's direction before strolling off to his office, hands casually placed in his trouser pockets as he winked to the young delivery boy. Michael. You thought to yourself, not missing the small gesture Tommy had sent his way as your head snapped to the man whose name kept coming up, the whole exchange also not going missed by Polly's watchful eye, who's feet found her charging over to Tommy's office to confront him about the little game she knew he was playing, and the flowers that were undoubtedly sent by him.

"Wait, hang on...wait. Who sent them? Fuck..." You said with your hand out to halt the delivery boy as he ran out the door. Your flustered state not quick enough to stop his speedy steps and avoidance of questions as the hustle of the office resumed and you stood there nervously watching the Shelby cousin in the corner of your eye. Was it Michael who sent you those flowers? Michael, who was watching you that night?

"Lucky posy for you me love?" an older lady dressed in ragged clothing asked with a small bouquet of heather bound with twine held out for you to take as you were about to turn the corner onto the docks. Some fresh air from the confines of the office had been your pathetic excuse to not join the others at the Garrison for drinks that afternoon, ultimately leading you to the very spot you were standing in that might as well have been the dodgiest back alley of downtown London after all of its unusual residents you had encountered on your little afternoon detour. In reality, you not only wanted peace from the worries that had begun to weigh heavy on your mind for the third time that week, but also from the constant bombardment of attention Michael had been giving you all that morning.

" No, thank you" you quietly replied as you walked under the bridge, clutching your coat around you from the drop in temperature a gust of wind tunneling through the overpass sent your way.

" Bad luck not to..." she pouted, her comment making you come to a sudden stop. Fuck. With a broken mirror, and a black cat adamant on popping up out of nowhere on a regular basis, you were in need of some good fortune.

" Ta love " she said, polishing the penny you had given her on the sleeve of her woolen coat before quickly pocketing it as her eyes scanned the darkened tunnel suspiciously for any chancers that wished to steal what was now rightfully hers." Good things be heading your way me love, I can feel it!" she called out as she waved you off. Good things. She had best be bloody right, you thought to yourself as you looked down at the small lilac bundle of flowers in your hand, a heavy feeling of unease settling in your stomach as your eyes darted up to the empty path with a row of narrowboats lined up against the embankment. Ten-minute walk max. That's all it would take for you to get to the end and back into the welcome bustle of Small Heath's main street. Why on God's green earth did you pick this bleeding path? You thought to yourself as you started walking dangerously close to the edge when you suddenly heard the distinguishable sound of someone's heavy footsteps behind you.

" Shit" you mumbled under your breath closing your eyes, every part of you wishing you had accepted your colleagues' offer to join them in the Garrison before you slowly turned your head, squinting through the settled fog to see a man in the distance walking your way. " Shit, shit shit!" you cursed yourself as your unhurried steps turned into a brisk, panicked pace.

" Hey!" He shouted, his low voice barely audible through the thick smog as he started to jog after you, you in turn frantically matching his speed as your eyes darted between a passage way mere feet away on your right, and the barge beside you to your left. Ever attentive to your surroundings, or more specifically, anything above eye level, your careless proximity to the water's edge had you tumbling over an iron pilling just as a hand reached out and grabbed hold of your arm before you fell into the icy water and, ultimately, to your death.

" Woah...careful there sweetheart. A bit cold for a swim, eh?"

" Tommy..." You cried, falling into his arms, hiding your head in his coat as your grip tightened at the sight of the man who had been chasing after you distance closed in. Unbeknownst to you, as you buried your head in your savior's chest, the very man you had feared had already come to a stop at the gulley, placing what could have only been your scarf that dreadful gust of wind blew off you as you entered the bridge only five minutes ago on a bricked wall before heading off, something you had yet to realise in your jittery state.

"Y/N? What's going on, eh?" Tommy said, holding you in front of him, the coolness from the leather of his gloved hand gently brushing a lone tear from your cheek." Hey...shhh, come on now" he hushed your sobs away, bringing you back into his strong arms as your cries overtook your mumbling attempts to explain what had you so frightened, the feeling of your body pressed firmly against his own sending a ripple of pleasure under his skin.

" I... I thought he was... Ethel and Betsy, they told me about this man..."

"Ethel and Betsy, eh?" Tommy cut you off with a chuckle as he held you firmly by your arms. " If they told me the sky was blue on a clear summer's day, I wouldn't believe them. Two of the biggest gossipers in the whole of Birmingham, no doubt told you a bunch of fibs, hm?" He said, his own little white lie leaving his lips so naturally, so calculated as you nodded your head in response looking down at the small bouquet in your hand. " Lucky Heather..." Tommy said with a playful smile as his fingers softly brushed over your hand, taking the good luck charm from you. " Not Superstitious are you Y/N?" Tommy questioned cocking a brow, twirling the stems of the flowers between his fingers before handing them back to you.

" Lately...yes" you exhaled as Tommy rested his hand on your lower back, gently gesturing you to walk with him.

" Lately eh?" Tommy said looking down at you as you met his playful stare with a smile. "Seems we've made quite the impression on you here in Small Heath Miss Y/L/N if you're stocking up on lucky posy's already hm?" He chuckled fishing in his pockets for a cigarette. His preferred Sweet Afton's, conveniently no longer his tobacco of choice.

" It's me, I'm just...getting used to it here" you said, reassuring yourself as you pushed your nagging worries away for the umpteenth time that day. " I thought you'd be at the Garrison?" You said changing the subject as you and Tommy came to a stop at the end of the path. Always so curious. Tommy thought to himself, a subtle laugh caught in his throat leaving his lips as he brushed his hand down his mouth.

" I like to come down here, to catch some quiet. Have a boat down here I check up on. "The January" he said coming to a stop, the exhale of smoke from his tobacco following the curves of your body as Tommy looked you over, measuring what it was you were really asking whilst your lips curved into a smile as you looked up at him through your dark lashes. Did you look at every man that way, or was your bashful innocence only his to enjoy? Tommy thought to himself, when his next words suddenly caught his calculated demeanor off guard. " There are plenty of quieter places in Birmingham, could take you there if you'd like. This evening?" He said waiting for your response, his fingers subtly pressing into your back at your unexpected lapse in reaction. Rejection was something Tommy had yet to experience, and in his hearts attempt to do something his mind would never contemplate, he was about to get a lesson in the very thing his dashing charm had evaded him from ever encountering.

" Oh...Perhaps, perhaps another time Tommy" you said, taken aback by his unexpected offer. He was your boss, and as much as he was both devilishly handsome and dazzlingly alluring, you had promised him to keep things professional, assuming that meant being with him too. You thought to yourself sending him a small smile before slowly walking ahead, your arms crossed in front of you as you mentally scolded yourself for refusing his offer. He had been nothing but gentlemanly to you. Had he not?

It had been an hour since you and Tommy had arrived at the Garrison to join the others for the drinks you had originally turned down, and an hour since your close encounter with what you believed to be the man that had been both watching, and following you since your arrival in Small Heath.

"Whisky or Gin?" Ada asked taking your glass as you nodded your head to the bottle of London Dry on the table that Tommy was sat across from, watching you, deciphering your every movement as a cloud of tobacco smoke from his lips briefly haltered the piercing stare he had been giving you since you both arrived. You hadn't lied to him, had you? Keeping a secret boyfriend he didn't know about? Now that would be naughty. Tommy thought to himself as he stubbed out his cigarette, determined to find out why you refused his offer down at the docks, his bitter jealously at the thought of any man being with you accept him making his usually stoic demeanor unnervingly menacing.

" Where have you been? Michael?" Polly asked as her son entered the snug, the bottom of his beige coat damp from the dewy mud-ridden cobblestones Small Heath seemed to permanently possess.

"Leave it mum" Michael responded sharply as he quickly poured himself a whisky, looking at you above the glass. What did have him so late? You thought to yourself as you looked down at the cuffs of his muddied trousers, splattered with soil like your own stockings from your frightening impromptu run along the embankment.

"That'll be my fault, Aunt Pol" Tommy said lighting another cigarette, tossing the box of matches on the chair next to him his cousin was about to sit on, the tension between the two family members heightening with each passing second." Sent Michael here on a little errand for me. Went for a run as well, I see..." Tommy said raising his brow as he looked down at his cousin's grubby dress shoes." Does anybody smell, shit?...Michael?" Tommy lent forward his nose turning up in his cousin's direction as he furrowed his brow in disgust before falling back into his chair taking a drag of cigarette as an amused laugh left his lips, Arthur and John quickly following suit at the blatant dig to the unwelcome newest member to the family.

" Fuck off Tommy. Get a delivery boy next time" Michael huffed, pushing through the crowded space with an irritated pout on his face as he made his way to the empty seat next to you.

"Alright, enough you two" Polly reprimanded them both, undoubtedly trying to diffuse the animosity they felt for one another and the sinister threats Tommy had made the previous day she knew he was capable of executing.

" You alright Y/N?" Michael said, turning to face you as you found yourself putting as much space as possible between you both, now practically sitting in Adas' lap. Why wouldn't he leave you alone? You thought to yourself, feeling increasingly uneasy with his continued attention aimed solely at you at any given moment he could steal. " I was wondering, maybe you and I could, could go out somewhere this weekend?" He said quietly, but not quiet enough as the snugs chatter suddenly diffused at the perfect moment, and everyone's heads snapped to the both of you, their ears pricking up at Michaels' offer.

" Think we've found your secret admirer Y/N" Betsy hiccuped with a giggle, her third glass of gin dulling her usually sensible attitude.

"Give it a rest Betsy" Michael said slouching back into his seat as your nervous fumbling with the hem of your dress caught Ada's attention, her hand coming to rest over your jittery fingers in reassurance.

"Whatever's the matter?" She said quietly turning to face you before sending Tommy a look of concern as the chatter of the room resumed and Michael was left there waiting for your response.

" I'm fine, honest. Too much gin" you said as Ada's brow furrowed, suspicious of her cousin's overly eager display and the clear discomfort it was causing you as you looked up to Tommy who was also waiting on your response to his cousin.

" How about it then?" Michael said, putting his arm around the back of your chair as Tommy's eyes narrowed in, his jaw tightening. Touch her, I dare you. Tommy seethed to himself, Michael's next move sealing his fate if he was willing to take the risk.

" Go on Y/N, go 'av some fun. Even if it is with bloody Michael" Arthur said belching into his drink giggling, so drunk he was seconds away from falling face down onto the hard wooden table as Polly sent her eldest nephew a formidable stare. "Sorry Polly, but..." he said gesturing his hands out laughing as he looked to Tommy who was unable to hold back his own laugh and the scoff hidden within it.

" Ok. I guess..." you said reluctantly, feeling forced to give into his request as Michael's satisfied smirk widened in accomplishment as he looked over to Tommy. Michael's juvenile attempts to get under his cousin's skin going completely ignored by the notorious gangster, whose glare and anger was now aimed directly at you, unforgivably, straight at...you. Tommy's amused smile that graced his face mere minutes ago had fallen into a stare even the Grim Reaper himself would recoil from, his eyes darkening with each burn of the ash forming at the end of his cigarette loosely resting between his fingers as his face kept still and indecipherable from the enragement bubbling furiously like the pits of hell under his skin.

Oh sweetheart, now why did you go and do that?

Next part coming soon!

Tag list: @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @prettywhenicry4 @smayhem49-blog @pacifymebby @indierockgirrl @globetrotter28 @theshelbyclan @zablife @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @peakyswritings @everysage

[atinylittlepain]

Tougher Than the Rest

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

wordcount | 5.5K

warnings | smut, angst, the usual

a/n | we have reached the last chapter of this story. thank you to everyone who has followed along with this one, it has truly been a treat working with these characters, so your love for them means a lot. as always i'd love to hear what you think, drop me a line!

...................................

“Ellie, school in thirty! You better be up if you’re catching the train! Sorry about that, my daughter is– well, you know how kids can be. What was the question again?” She hates these things. These fluffy little interviews that her agent forces her into whenever she has a new book coming out. Good publicity and all that. Bullshit, if you ask her. Why can’t the book just speak for itself?

“No worries at all, I was wondering if you could tell me a little about your writing process for this last book, did you have a set routine or any rituals that propelled your work forward?” Rituals, gag her. She tries not to let out a dejected sigh over the phone, settling instead for an eye roll as she attempts to get Ellie’s lunch put together with one and a half hands, her phone settled precariously between her cheek and her shoulder as she puts together a pb and j, except not because Ellie’s school has a thing about peanut butter. So, sunflower butter and organic apricot jam from the co-op down the block that she somehow got wrangled into as a member. 

“You know, I try not to be too precious about routines. I write as much as I can whenever I can. And as a mom, I have to take whatever time I can get.” The interviewer most certainly didn’t like that answer, a long right, okay crackling over the line. But what did he expect? Some sort of meticulous, meditative bullshit no doubt. Sorry, not her style. 

“So, last question here, you have certainly established yourself over the last decade as a prolific writer. What is it that keeps you writing?” Well, that’s simple, isn’t it? If she keeps writing, she keeps herself from thinking about the past, about things she shouldn’t be thinking about. But her agent would probably throttle her for saying that, so something else in its place instead.

“I always wanted to be a writer growing up. It’s just– instinct, maybe impulse, frankly. I write because it’s what I know how to do, it’s how I figure out this world.” She tacks on that last bit hoping it will make up for the entirely unsexy rest of her responses, and judging by the hmm the interviewer lets out over the phone, it will suffice. All the usual niceties and a long sigh when she finally hangs up.

“Ellie, if you aren’t up I’m–”

“Jesus, I’m up, woman.” Her eleven-year-old has developed a new habit of calling her woman like a despondent husband in a loveless marriage, marching out of her bedroom and into the kitchen as she shoves papers into her backpack. 

“Lunch for you, and I will be outside of the school at 3:30 to walk home with you, okay? Do you– I can walk with you this morning too if–” 

“No, mom, I got it.” It stings, just a little, smarting, and then a small swell of pride that her girl is so independent. 

“Okay, okay, let’s get some breakfast in you, huh? Smoothie, that sound good?” Ellie’s face scrunches up, but she doesn’t give her an abject no, and that’s enough for Cherry to get out the blender. 

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s in Texas?” Cherry freezes, her hand holding half a banana (non-GMO, whatever the fuck that means) suspended over the blender. 

“What– where’s that question coming from?” 

“On the computer last night, you had left it open to some construction company in Texas.” Shit, her smart girl. That was how Ellie found out that Santa wasn’t real two years ago, hopping on the desktop and finding the order confirmation for the pair of glow-in-the-dark Converse she had asked for in her letter addressed to the North Pole. 

“Oh, um, that– I have a friend who is, uh, moving there and I’m helping her find someone to do work on her new house, yeah.” Ellie doesn’t seem to buy that answer, brow pinched up, but before she can question it, Cherry flips on the blender, letting it whir just a little longer than it needs to. 

“Alright, breakfast of champions, you can drink it on the train, yeah? You’re gonna be late if you don’t get a move on.” A quick flurry to pour the smoothie into a to-go cup and then out the door, love you, be safe, bye. A big sigh when she slumps back against the shut door, close one.

Yes, maybe, a moment of weakness yesterday. A moment of weakness while she was working over edits for her next book. Somehow, up until yesterday, she had managed to not let a moment of weakness creep in. But before she knew what she was doing, she was googling his name and Austin, Texas. And there he was, with his own business no less.

Yes, maybe, she had left a tab open on the Miller’s Construction website’s About Us page. And yes, maybe, she had left the page zoomed in on the picture of Joel in the top corner. And yes, maybe, none of her edits had gotten done because she was a little busy looking at said picture for the better portion of the afternoon. 

So the first thing that she does after cleaning up the small cyclone in the kitchen is log onto the computer to delete that tab, not letting herself linger on the photo any longer. But he looks good, she thinks. Doing good for himself, she thinks. Not letting that thought get any bigger, that want crack open any more than it already has, right back to work on her edits. 

But her mind is fickle this morning, still stuck on that photo, still stuck on him in a way she hasn’t been in a while. Maybe it’s because of the appointment she has at noon. An impulsive choice she made and, for some reason, has kept. A way to hold onto something she should have let go a long time ago. But she can’t.

And yes, maybe, her morning is spent in a constant toggle between the open tab of her word doc, and that damn About Us page on the Miller’s Construction website.

…

He’s nervous. And he’s not sure why, because it’s her, right? It’s them. Except this is new. Not something they ever got to do in the past. Not like this at least. 

“Hey there.” She’s in a dress when she opens the door, and his mind has to quickly configure around the fact that this is the first time he has seen her in a dress in two decades, though he probably should have expected that, right? Because people dress up for these things, something that Sarah said to him very slowly like he was an invalid, prompting him into a button-down before he left. 

“Hey, Cherry, you look, uh, yeah– look real good.” She smiles, still leaning in the doorframe, but before she can speak, someone else beats her to it.

“Wow, real smooth, man.” 

“Ellie.” Cherry hisses it over her shoulder, but Joel never sees the kid, just hears her lowly murmured what? I’m just saying, geez. Already off to a great start. 

“Sorry about the peanut gallery, but I’m ready if you are.” 

No more sneaking around, no more questioning if this is real or not. They’re doing the thing that normal people do, normal people in a normal relationship. They’re going on a date. 

“I like this.” She hums it, reaching across the console from the passenger seat to thumb at the collar of his shirt, her palm smoothing down over his chest. 

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, you clean up very pretty, Miller.” Just a little snark tinging the end of her words, making him huff as she keeps rubbing distracting circles into his chest. 

“Well, you’re in fine form, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With that, her hand trails up, palm slipping behind the nape of his neck, her fingers threading through the errant curls there while he fights the urge for his eyes to roll back in his head. 

“Sure, Cher, at this rate we’re not even gonna make it to the restaurant.” He regrets saying it instantly, because just as soon as the words leave his mouth, she’s taking her hand away, sitting prim and perfect in the passenger seat where she had been completely turned toward him before. 

“Right, sorry, best behavior.” Her words slant with the simper of her smile, and he has to remind himself that they’re doing this normal thing now. No need to hurry, no need to hide, no need to steal time. Because she’s staying, and so is he. 

By some stroke of luck, they do make it to the restaurant, and it’s right about then that Joel realizes it has been a woefully long time since he has been on a date. He has to stutter himself into all the motions, trying to remember the right moves, opening the door for her, a bit flustered when he pulls her chair out for her and she snorts.

“Well you don’t get this kind of treatment in New York.” To make the matter of his quick creeping flush worse, she presses a kiss to his cheek before she sits down. He gets to have that now, totally normal. He’s still getting used to totally normal.

“So how is the book coming along?” He’s not sure if he’s allowed to ask that, what might still be a sore subject. For a moment, her face falls, fear flickering in his chest that he has fucked up, though she smooths it out, something like a smile still at the edges of her eyes.

“Do you really want to hear me talk about that?” 

“Only if you want to.”

“Can I ask you something first?” He nods, of course, taking a cursory sip of his wine as she does the same. 

“Did you– what did you think? About the other ones?” She asks it shy, her cheek propped in her hand, smile crumpled to one side. His mind reels with what he could say, though he’s not sure if any of it’s right. It’s not like he has some dazzlingly intellectual thing to say. But she’s asking him, she wants to know what he thinks, and he muses to himself that she’s been wanting to know what he thinks for a while. 

“I was amazed by every single one, Cher. And I was proud of you too, even though I had no business feeling that way. It was– I thought about you, a lot, over the years. And getting to read your books, it felt like I could be a little closer to you that way.” He surprises himself with the stark honesty of his words, but how could he offer her anything else when she’s looking at him like that? Smile softening in the dim light of the restaurant, cheeks brimming up with the praise.  

“I always wondered, you know, if you were reading them. I– I guess that’s a little ridiculous.” He’s still getting used to this too, being able to reach out for her, taking her hand in his across the table.

“Not ridiculous, and I’m looking forward to reading the new one.” 

“I sent the second draft in two days ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, my editor fucking destroyed my first one, so we’ll see how this draft goes over.” 

“You know, I’ve been wondering, Cher, when the hell did you get that trucker’s mouth of yours?” She laughs big and bright, shoulders shrugging up to her ears, a little flail to her hands that makes him laugh too.

“I mean, it’s definitely a New York thing. That, and people just started pissing me off a lot more, so I kinda had to.” 

“I tried to cut back on it when Sarah got old enough to start picking stuff up. She still managed to slip a few fucks into her vocabulary in the first grade.” 

“Oh god, I actually got called into the school when Ellie was in the first grade because she told a boy at recess to leave her the fuck alone. Honestly, I was more proud than anything else, is that bad?” 

“Fuck no, it’s not bad. I’d probably take Sarah for ice cream if she did the same.” She sighs around a smile, and he finds himself doing the same, settling into this ease. Yes, he thinks, it’s going to take some getting used to. But he’s more than happy to be getting used to it with her.

…

“I’d like to get it on my right shoulder, if that works okay.” If her mother could see her now. She doesn’t look in the mirror until the tattoo artist has stamped the stencil into place, a satisfied hum in her throat when she gets a look at the design. 

Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she was going to keep this appointment. She had made it under the pleasant flush of two glasses of wine late one night about a month ago, surprised to receive an email from the artist saying that they loved her idea and wanted to get her on the books. And for some reason, she didn’t say no, didn’t cancel, and is now laying out on a tattoo table and bracing for the first pass of the needle. 

It’s not too bad, a little cringey when the artist is working right over the cap of her shoulder, but otherwise it passes quickly, and before she knows it, she’s standing back in front of the mirror on shaky legs, looking at the twining cherry branch now wrapping around her upper arm. 

“It’s perfect, thank you. I love it.” Ellie has rather different feelings about it, her jaw dropping loose when Cherry meets her outside of her school, still warm enough that she’s only in a t-shirt, showing off part of her still-wrapped ink. 

“What is that?” There’s no playing it off, Ellie refusing to move until Cherry gives her an answer.

“That is a tattoo, and before you ask, no, not until you’re eighteen.” Ellie balks at that, though Cherry is quick to sling her arm around her girl’s shoulders to set them both walking toward the subway. 

“Is it– what is it?” Ellie takes the one leftover seat in the train and Cherry hooks her elbow around the rail in front of her, a perfect opportunity for her kid to get a better look at her new tattoo.

“It’s a cherry tree.”

“I can’t believe you got a tattoo.” She says it with a sigh, like somehow, this is the worst news ever. Cherry has to hold back a laugh, knowing that it will only put Ellie in even worse of a tiff. 

“What’s wrong with tattoos?” 

“Nothing, but you’re my mom, you’re not supposed to get tattoos.” Ellie grumbles out the last words, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff, perfectly petulant. Cherry gives her little episode about twenty more minutes before she forgets all about it and asks what’s for dinner. 

When they do get back to their apartment, Cherry just barely catches the ringing phone, surprised, though pleasantly, when she hears Will on the other end. 

“Hey, what’s going on? Everything okay?” 

“Hey, yeah, I just thought I’d give you a call.” She knows exactly what that means. It’s only been recently that she and Will can talk like this, call like this. She got out, and he did too, and for a while that had to be enough for the both of them, slinking around the past like they could somehow forget it. It was Will that reached out to her first, and she was relieved for it, not sure if he resented her, or even hated her for the way she left. He didn’t, he understood, and he wanted to know how his big sister was doing. 

“Mom?” He sighs over the phone, exactly what she thought. For some reason, their mother still reaches out to him, an errant phone call that he somehow can’t seem to dodge. 

“She called to tell me that they’re moving to Arizona.”

“Oh, lovely.”

“Yeah, so I guess that means Austin has finally been fumigated.” Cherry snorts, trying to let that be funny, though all it really feels is bitter. 

“You’re not thinking about going back, are you?” Because suddenly, she is. An impossibility for so long, now a little more possible.

“Hell no, Portland has been good to me. I only just managed to lose the accent.” 

“I liked your accent, Will. I’m afraid mine has started sounding a little too Brooklyn lately.”

“Yeah, you have that kinda eternally angry thing going on in your voice now.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that my eternally angry voice is what gets me book deals.” 

“Sure, that’s what it is, miss New York Times bestseller.” She scoffs, a flustered murmur of yeah, yeah, whatever, always quick to change the subject from anything like that. 

“You’re still coming for Christmas though, right? I’d– we’d really love to have you. I’ve been telling Ellie about you.” Something new, she never thought Ellie would get any kind of extended family. Definitely no grandparents, but an uncle would be nice.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.” He has something else to say, she can tell by the way his words fizzle out. She doesn’t push though, just waits.

“You don’t think about going back, do you? To Texas?” Her throat tightens, a quick glance down the hall to check that Ellie’s bedroom door is still closed.

“No, why would I want to?”

“Oh come on, out of the two of us I’d say you’d have an actual reason to.”

“What are you talking about?” Like maybe she could bullshit her way out of this, but he is her brother, after all. He always liked Joel, definitely looked up to him. And he was also one of the only people that knew about their relationship, always willing to cover for her sneaking around, for the flat rate price of a new comic book. 

“Not what, who.”

“Will, that’s ancient history. That’s– that’s even past ancient history. It was another life.”

“I know, I just– I always thought you two were gonna be it, you know? Even before that summer, y’all were always something else.”

“Careful, they’ll throw you out of Portland for saying y’all like that.” That gets half a laugh out of him, just enough to drop the subject.

“All this talk of Texas must be getting to me. Anyways, just wanted to call and tell you the big news or whatever.” 

“Alright, well, big news aside, it’s always good to hear from you. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” 

“Yeah, sis, love you.”

“Love you too.” That’s new, she’s glad for it.

Afternoons, after school, but before dinner, this is her favorite time. Sometimes, Ellie will still let her help with her homework, or at least allow her presence on the edge of her bed while she works, might even answer a few questions about her day or her friends. Eleven going on thirty, or something like that. By the time dinner rolls around, her girl has warmed up to her enough to sit at the kitchen counter while she chops vegetables.

“So, why a cherry tree?” 

“Oh, it’s an old story, a friend of mine from a long time ago, not interesting. Hey, I saw the email from the school about career day next week, were you gonna tell me about that?” A quick change of subject, two birds with one stone, really. Ellie’s face scrunches up at her question.

“Yeah, but like, you’re too busy for it anyways.” She barely looks up from her math worksheet as she says it, like no big deal, though Cherry’s stomach immediately sinks.

“Woah, woah, babe, I am absolutely not too busy for that. I’m never too busy for you, what– why do you think that?” Ellie just shrugs, still intent on her fractions.

“Because of the new book and stuff. You’re very preoccupied.” One of her new vocab words for the week, preoccupied, right. 

“Els, will you look at me, please? I am never too busy for you, okay? None of that shi��stuff matters more than you do. And I’d really love to go to career day, if you want me to be there.” Ellie seems to consider that proposition, a big burst of relief when she nods.

“Yeah, you’re cooler than a lot of the other parents anyways. They all do boring stuff for work.” She’ll take it, trying to temper her grin at her girl’s small praise as she gets back to prepping dinner. She’ll have to remember to wear long sleeves for career day, not wanting to give the PTA moms any more gossip fodder than they already have about her. Single mom, single writer mom with no family to be heard of. Not a very good look to all those upper-crust types, not that she could give a shit about it. But she doesn’t want her black sheepness to rub off on Ellie, play dates and hang outs to be scheduled and all that, so, definitely long sleeves for career day. 

Much later, Ellie in bed reading, and no impending emails or phone calls, Cherry finally takes another look at the tattoo before getting in the shower. 

If nothing else, ever, at least this.

…

“So.” She says it all long and drawn out, her hands clasped behind her back as she sways a little in front of his truck, sooooo. It’s dark out by the time they leave the restaurant, both of them a little loose, a little languid from a few glasses of wine, though he’s still sober enough to feel a lick of nerves run up his spine as he tries to figure out what’s the right next move, what normal people do on a date like this. 

“Sarah is at Tommy’s for the night, if you don’t have to be home just yet?” No, probably not what normal people do on a first date. But no, not their first date either, not really. And nothing normal about this either, not really. Cherry, smiles, all crooked shadows in the faint glow coming from the restaurant. She really is a sight. He’s been stealing sweeping glances all night, collecting her up in pieces in his mind. The bare skin of her thighs, just a suggestion of it with the slip of her dress. Her dress, he thinks she knows that it’s just a little cruel that she’s wearing that dress judging by the way she moves, shoulders rolled back, always a ghost of a grin like she’s getting away with something. Instinct or just plain impulse to reach out for her, to let his knuckles graze along the neckline of her dress, the smallest shiver when he trails from the sweet plunge up along the slope of her shoulder. 

“Ellie was going to a sleepover, so I don’t have to be anywhere until my chauffeur services are needed tomorrow.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” 

He is trying, all of his effort, really, to focus on the road when they start driving back to his house. But Cherry isn’t exactly making it easy with the way her hand is splayed on his thigh, and he has to clear his throat when her nails graze along the inseam of his pants. 

“Everything alright?” He only glances away for a beat, though it’s enough time to see the smug curl of her smile.

“You– you’re–” His breath hitches before he can finish that thought, Cherry’s knuckles grazing against his already aching cock through his pants, though her hand is gone just as soon, settling lower, just above his knee. 

“What am I, baby?” 

“I think you know what you are.” Her laugh comes in bells, chirping high as she tips her head back, the shock-white flash of her teeth in the corner of his eye. 

“I think you like it.” High, like wings fluttering each word she says. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes still on the road while he reaches across the console for her, his palm slipping from her shoulder up the slope of her neck, fingers curling around her nape and his thumb stroking the hinge of her jaw, his own silent answer, his. 

They’re both quiet stepping inside his house, lights off so the rooms are washed down in dark swaths of shadow. Up the stairs and into his room, she doesn’t look at the books this time, all her attention on him. 

No need to rush, no need to hide, no need to lie about what this really is. A first for two decades later, they can take their time with each other, because there will be plenty more of it to offer, to receive.

“I thought about you, you know.” He knows that she’s talking about a particular kind of thinking about him, her eyes heavy with it. 

“Show me, Cher.” Broken thoughts that somehow still get pieced together, the easy slip of her dress falling around her feet, stepping out of fabric and laying back on his bed. Perfect like this, her knees bent and falling open to the sides. He finds himself sitting down on the edge of the bed, his palm cupping the slope of her calf before sliding down, fingers curling loosely around her ankle. Something to tether him, to convince him that this is real, that all her want is for him. From the start, she was always surprising him, always finding some fresh way to make his head spin. She still is. Propped up on one elbow, her other palm trailing down the center of her chest, pausing there to let her fingers graze against her nipple, the smallest hitch of her breath making his cock pulse. And then lower, his eyes going heavy watching her hand move over the soft clench of her stomach before settling just over her pelvis. Forefinger and middle spreading herself open for him to see, swollen and pearling pleasure, obscene and a little world-ending. 

And it’s his name. His name that she whispers when she dips two of her fingers into her cunt, his hand curling a little closer around her ankle at the sight and sound. A slick smear of heat, the way the tendons in her hips jump with the effort of staying splayed for him, slack and then tense all over when the pads of her fingers catch against her clit. 

Please, not enough, please, want you. But he wants to see, her preening pleas falling on deaf ears. Because he wants to see how she thought about him all those miles away, years away, and aching for him. And he was aching for her too. Go on, Cher, just like that. She huffs, brow pulling down in a pinch of frustration, but she still allows, the small jump of her wrist, the veins in her hand jittering as two fingers find a stuttered rhythm, her hips tilting into each thrust. And he’s mean for doing this, cruel even, slipping sorry beneath his palm as it skates up her shin, smoothing and soothing. I know, I know, it’s not enough, is it? Never enough he thinks, it was never enough. 

“Stop teasing, come here.” Never saying no to her, and he already knows it, making as quick work as he can of the buttons of his shirt, the warm flush of bare skin against bare skin when he finally settles between her legs, one palm splayed next to her temple and the other bunched in the sheets beside her hip. All brilliant machinery, two bodies moving together like they never stopped, her knee hitching up along his hip as his palm slides down along the soft skin of the inside of her thigh. He rests his thumb over her clit, presence more than anything else, though Cherry doesn’t allow that for long, another huff, another don’t tease that he chases after with a hard stamp of a kiss. 

And when he finally spreads her open with one shuddering snap of his hips, his breath gets caught in his chest, pleasure finally catching up to him and crackling down his spine. His mouth rests open and wanting below the dip of her clavicle, the slight press of skin that comes with each of her inhales, like a bird beating around in her ribs, short and stuttered and certain. 

Quiet whispers, need you to move, baby, that word never failing to snare his mind, all he can do to give her what she wants with a slow roll of his hips that’s already turning greedy in the way he grinds into the plush of her ass at the end, a high sound stopping itself in the back of her throat. 

And no, not taking their time, both of them growing desperate for that tight furl of pleasure settling between them. Just a little obscene in the way the bed scrapes against the floor with every thrust, the sound melding and mixing with the breathy little moans Cherry can’t seem to stop, not that he would want her to. He groans when he reaches between them to thumb at her clit, her cunt dripping around him, a dizzying flutter of heat that he wants more of. And when Cherry says more, right there something snaps in him, animal, incessant in the way he slips his palms under the swell of her ass, lifting her hips up so her thighs rest over his, fucking up into her from his haunches, strong enough that he can do that now, move and make her with his hands like this. Pulled taut, her body one long line of pleasure, he watches the perfect tendons in her throat jump with a whine of his name. 

It’s a devastating heat when she does come, spine arching before she slumps down in his grasp. He stills inside her, a whimper in her throat when his hips absent-mindedly shift against hers. C’mere, c’mere, pulling him down, her palms running up his sides before slipping over his shoulders, mapping him out as she catches her breath.

“I love you so much, Joel.” The sound he makes is pathetic at best, a little broken battering in his ribs. And he should ask if she’s good, if he can, if it’s okay for him to, but he needs it so bad, needs her so bad that he’s already finding that rhythm again, harsh breaths with each thrust. Not far behind her, not with the way she’s murmuring all her want into his ear, something that sounds like love when that pleasure finally snaps and shimmers under his skin. 

Perfect like this in the after, holding onto each other, mouths finding whatever slip of skin they can, kissing it better. 

“It’s you and me, Cher. I love you.” Her fingers still in their gentle sweep through his hair, a little tug to get his eyes up to hers. 

“Plus two.” Confused at first, he has to laugh when his brain catches up to what she’s saying.

“Right, you and me, plus two.” 

…

Her least favorite time of the day, or night, really. Ellie asleep, just her and the blinking cursor in her word document. It’s about this time every night that it settles back in under her skin. She doesn’t know what to call it. Loneliness feels pitiful, and patently untrue because she has her girl, and that’s all she needs. It’s like an ache, like a physical lack that she manages to forget about in all the fret and fuss of the day, still there, still sore. 

Tonight, something particular to soothe that ache. That damn web page, and that damn photo of him. Different, older, but still him. A small part of her, a young part, wonders if he has read her books, if he’s seen her photo on the dust jackets and traced all the small nicks and nips of time the same way that she does now, her face pressed close to the screen of her computer to collect up any new detail. 

She quits while she’s ahead, sigh, shut the whole thing off, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes to try to stamp out the picture of him. 

An ache, a want, that has been there for nearly two decades. When Will had told her about their parents moving out of Austin, hope had been quick to flicker up and around her ribs, a silly thing. Silly to ache like this, to want like this, to presume that he’s been waiting around for her. 

She’s been waiting for him though, she realizes. Wanting for him. So would it be so crazy to think that, maybe, he’s been wanting for her too?

........................................

taglist:

@spookyxsam @libbylou223 @angel-in-beskar @starstruckunknown-princess @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @suzmagine @everything-isfucked @lanabobana @kittenlittle24 @sarap-77 @officerrrfriendly @val-srz @bitchwitch1981 @redwoodsanddaffodils @themothersmercy @romanarose @lost-inhawkins @youcancallmeelle @hollywoodcaligirl @harryleatherfit @fifia-writes @brighttears @lokanda @hardlystrictlystarwars @sarahxxo3 @harriedandharassed @anoverwhelmingdin

[dollhog]

Can you possibly expand on the type of alchemy/ sex magick? Such as potions or spells that directly help with putting on plot of weight? I’ve always wanted to get more info regarding spells or incantations that help with weight gain. Don’t worry I’m looking for reference for myself and personal use. Anyway I love your blog and thankful for any insight 🖤

Feedee weight gain ritual from a theistic Satanist and herbal alchemist. 200 lbs gained in 15 months

The response on my post regarding weight gain and witchcraft has been incredible! So here’s some information on how I’ve gone about my weight gain rituals in the past. Please be aware that this is not for the uninitiated, results will vary depending on your methods. At the end of the post, I provide names of the demonic divine and herbal correspondences best suited for this working. This is thoroughly intended for you to customise to your liking!

Cross small bones (chicken leg bones will work) and bind them together tightly with the red yarn. This is your doll’s skeleton. Wrap fabric around the outside of your doll, bind with red yarn while retaining the humanoid/cross shape. This does not need to look pretty, but it must roughly resemble a person in crucifixion pose. The bones symbolise your skeletal system, the yarn symbolises your nervous system, and the fabric symbolises skin and fat. Consecrate it with a drop of your blood. Take your chosen herbal mixture and mix with melted lard, pour this over your doll. Wrap and tie more fabric to the midsection of your doll overtop of the lard and herbs to “fatten” it.

Take a piece of paper, write your name and date of birth. Then the amount of weight you intend to gain over what period of time. And the sigil of whoever you’re working under. Burn the paper in a small dish. Add a herbal oil of your choosing to the ashes and dress your candle with the mixture. Dress your candle with saliva and cum. Drip the candle on your doll, then on the areas of your body you want to gain the most weight. This will sting, but it will not hurt nor leave a burn. Close the ritual and remove the wax from yourself. Sleep with the doll beside your bed.

In the coming days, repeat the process of dripping the lard and herbs, wrapping the doll and dripping the wax over you and it until you are satisfied with the doll’s “weight gain”. Leave offerings as curtesy to the demonic force aiding you every time you repeat the cycle. Hard liquor, tobacco/cigars, blood, nice chocolate, etc. Keep the doll in a place hidden from anything or anyone that could interfere. Dispose of it at the crossroads with a good offering when you have gained your desired amount of weight.

Some sex magick ingredients:

* Damiana

* Kava kava

* Radish

* Marshmallow root

* Chilli

* Rose

* Crowfoot

* Dried apple

* Basil

* Tuberose

* Nutmeg

* Blowball

* Ginseng

* Fig seeds

* Blood root

* Holly

* Coriander

* Dill

* Violet

* Jasmine

* Senna

* Cacao

* Endive

* Vanilla

* Peach

* Dried apricot

* Devil’s bone root

* Mint

* Mandrake

* Adam and Eve root

* Orange peel

* Savoury

* Devil’s bit

* Mugwort

* Brown sugar

* Daffodil

* Cherry bark

* Hibiscus

* Garlic

* Maple

* Caraway

* Ylang ylang

* Lemongrass

* Cardamom

* Chestnut

* Clove

* Spikenard

Lust and gluttony demons:

* Asmodeus

* Lilith

* Sytry

* Beelzebub

* Incubi/Succubi

This is obviously not for the uninitiated, if you don’t know how to contact a demon respectfully and you don’t know how to control, manipulate and transmute energy, it has high chance of going horribly wrong. If you insist on doing it regardless, at the very least do your own research.

[crepesuzette2023]

Thank you @crumblingcookies for tagging me! I must characterize myself using 10 pictures, without downloading anything new! Hmmm...

I don't know who has been tagged already, so please feel free to play, everyone--and I am tagging @packyourromanticmind , @peaceloveandstarrs , @tenderlady , @tavolgisvist and @the-paper-apricot @wonderwall1968

[toomanytookas]

Hi M!

I have some questions for you inspired by the Office Ladies podcast—

What was your first job?

What languages do you speak?

What is a place you have been to that you love?

What is your favorite midnight snack?

Hi Kat,

Thank you so much for the ask, it's been fun to see everyone's answers! I'm going to start out of order to include a fun photo above the cut. <3

One of my favourite places to visit is called Elkhorn Slough. It's a really lovely wetland area on the central CA coast where a lot of southern sea otters (as well as other wildlife) live. Weather permitting, you're able to rent kayaks and go and paddle around and watch them and it's very peaceful (if you discount the stress of juggling a giant camera+lens combo in a dry bag and the warning that otters sometimes like to get up on the kayaks). There's a fun succulent nursery and a restaurant that serves a nice cioppino nearby, so you can make it a day trip full of several of fun stops! Whenever I know I'm going to be leaving the area for a while, I try and make the trip because it feels very quintessentially California to me.

First job - The first full-time job I had was working at a chain bakery. Some things that my friends knew me for back then as a result were: a. Always being able to procure reject cupcakes for snacking b. Paying for everything in my tip money (mostly singles and coins) that was stuffed in a wax paper bag from the bakery instead of a wallet.

Languages - English is my first language and I speak Spanish fairly confidently. I have also studied small drips of a variety of other languages but none of them have really stuck.

Favourite Midnight Snack - If we're talking something very naughty in the middle of the night, I've been known to make a pot of mac and cheese as a more substantive midnight meal (specifically Annie's white cheddar shells if I'm stateside). But if it's something light, I really like dried apricots! And maybe a few gummy bears. hehe.

I know you've answered these questions in your replies to a few folks, so I'll change it up a little — what's one place you think you'll love but you haven't had the chance to visit yet? And if you're up for answering two, what has been your favourite job you've had?

I hope you had a great week! ✨

[yellow-submazine]

Welcome!

This blog is a place to gather together art and writing that we had worked on for a future zine. Due to personal reasons the zine can't go ahead in the form we had originally anticipated. We had hoped to produce a paper copy you could hold in your hands, but that was not to be.

We still want to share what we've already made, which includes reviews, short stories, art works, and a free to use template for a project (to be revealed).

We really hope you'll enjoy what we've created, as we post it here over the next few months. Many thanks to our dear friend who suggested the name but couldn't participate in the project.

@the-paper-apricot @i-am-the-oyster

[tavolgisvist]

I have one mad idea (well, maybe not only one). I think John's 'Now And Then' grew out of 'Nobody’s Perfect' by Goffin and King. Not as a remake but as a sequel.

Look. Back to the egg (hah).

In the early 60-s The Beatles play 'Chains', 'Don't Ever Change', 'Take Good Care of My Baby' and the other cool Carole King and Gerry Goffin' songs, right?

Later John Lennon says,

'Well, first of all, Paul [McCartney] and I wanted to be the Goffin and King of England' (J. Wenner, 1971)

UPD (thanks a lot @the-paper-apricot for reminding about this moment in the interview):

John and Paul answer question about another composers people whose work they particularly admire ('The Lennon-McCartney Songbook', 1966),

Or even this, 'Early in their carier Paul and John reportedly had said that they hoped to becom the Goffin and King of the United Kingdom. I had taken this to mean not that they hoped to marry each other and live in New Jersey but that they aspired to be successful songrigters' (Carole King, 'A Natural Woman)

In 1962 Carole King recorded the beautiful 'Nobody’s Perfect',

I might have thought that other lips Could taste as sweet as your sweet lips Nobody's perfect Nobody's perfect We all make mistakes now and then

I might have thought that someone new Could give me truer love than you Nobody's perfect Nobody's perfect We all make mistakes now and then

And I paid for them every hour Every minute we're apart Anyone can tell I learned my lesson well Can't you find forgiveness in your hеart?

You said goodbye the other night But don't bе sure you're doin' right Nobody's perfect Nobody's perfect We all make mistakes now and then Yes, we all make mistakes now and then

It's unlikely John and Paul didn't hear it.

And in 1977 John sings,

I know it's true It's all because of you And if I make it through It's all because of you

And now and then If we must start again Well, we will know for sure That I love you

I don't wanna lose you, oh no, no Abuse you or confuse you Oh no, no, sweet darlin' But if you have to go, away If you have to go, well you the reason

Now and then I miss you Oh, now and then I want you to return to me 'Til you return to me

Yeah, I know, it's only in my headcanon but I think the Goffin and King song spinned in John's head when he wrote his one. And 'Nobody’s Perfect' for me is like John understands his own mistakes, accepts the reality and thinks about Paul as real Paul not about as an ideal figure on the top of the pedestal. And John's 'Now and Then' is the next step.

@i-am-the-oyster, what do you think about this idea?

[butternuggets-blog]

FOR WANT OF A NAIL

@baldwin-montclair @adowobsessed @sylverdeclermont @nicki-mac-me @thereadersmuse @kynthiamoon @wheresthesunshinesblog @adowbaldwin @beautifulsoulsublime @lady-lazarus-declermont @adarafaelbarba-blog @dogblessyoutascha

Part Fifty-Three

Summary:  Baldwin Montclair had a string of ex girlfriends, a single child, and a  lifetime longer than most people could dream of to make all kinds of  mistakes. His family knew one which kept coming out of the woodwork to  irritate him every other century

Also on AO3

Baldwin was white-knuckling the stonework as he listened to the laughter echoing from just around the corner.

He'd had hours.. days (Gods, it felt like hours) to get it through his thick skull that he lo-loved his best friend and now he was here and laughing and why the hell couldn't he walk around the damn corner-

Baldwin took a deep breath.

He was going to stand here forever, like an absolute fool, or pry his fingers from the wall and march.

He took another deep breath.

Which promptly choked him as he stepped around the corner and saw Martin smiling at Yvette.

He's glowing.

Backlit by sunshine streaming down onto the courtyard, his skin was dappled caramel by the afternoon sky. His hair was spun up into short, cropped snow, fashionably unkempt and light in the breeze, standing out starkly against the rich turquoise of his tunic and the tan leather of his boots.

He looked like a god and Baldwin was ready to lie down on the altar.

'Well!' Godfrey clapped his hands together loudly and stood up. Baldwin nearly jumped out of his skin; he hadn't noticed his brother sitting behind Martin on a low brick wall. 'I shall leave you all too it!'

Please-do-not-leave-please-do-not-leave-no no no no Fuck!

'Lucius!'

'Still Baldw-oof!'

And now Martin was hugging him, strong arms wrapped around him and his mouth inches from Baldwin's ear. He desperately swallowed the high-pitched whine that was rising higher and higher in his throat and ignored the way his skin prickled and pulsed with heat where Martin was pressed against him.

'Thank you for taking care of Yvette for me,' Martin said, quietly.

Everything was apricot and tobacco and sunshine and Baldwin wanted to cry.

________________________________________________________________

Yvette was beginning to worry that her uncle was going to wear a hole right through the floor of the library.

She had been put in charge of sorting through the enormous amounts of scrolls, books and loose sheafs of paper that were in Sept Tours' library in order to try and figure out what organisational style Hugh's ghost had used to 'tidy up'.

It must be very boring, being dead; relying on the living for entertainment.

Baldwin had come in while she was browsing Great-Uncle Philippe's collection of astrolabes someone had used as bookends for a collection of illuminated bibles. He was focused on something that was troubling him deeply; Yvette saw the oddly-haunted look in his eyes he chased away with a smile and an offer to help her reshelve the manuscripts, but when he turned away the set of his shoulders told her that the look had returned.

He was now pacing the length of the library, Bible in his hand. She had sent him off into the room to put it back but he kept "forgetting" where it was supposed to go as an excuse for him to retread his steps.

On second thought, he may actually have been so distracted by whatever was bothering him that he really had forgotten about the book.

'Do you wish to talk about something, Uncle Baldwin?' Yvette piped up.

'Hm, what? Oh, sorry sweetheart,' Baldwin kissed the top of Yvette's head, put the Bible where it was supposed to go, and zipped back to the table. 'No, it is nothing.'

'Are you sure? Perhaps you should talk to ɸatīr-' a strange strangled expression passed quickly over Baldwin's face, '-he is only downstairs.'

'No, no,' Baldwin swallowed. 'It is nothing we need bother your ɸatīr about.'

'ɸatīr has taught me that when I cannot find the right words, writing down my thoughts can help,' Yvette commented, smiling encouragingly.

________________________________________________________________

I lo

I have feelings f

We have been good friends for centuries and I have never been unsure of this until now.

I am sorry.

I will get better at this. I promise.

Author's Notes

The latest book in the series, The Black Bird Oracle, has just been released. I will be encorporating some background information from the book into later chapters of this story if I deem it necessary, but for the most part I will continue focussing on the first trio of books and the tv series.

[brokenxmachine]

WHAT COLOR IS YOUR AURA? - IVORY

lace, marble, china dishes, doves, paper, bones, vanilla shakes. your essence is ivory : you are a piece of history, sturdy and eternal. others believe you to be gentle; they don't see the pressure that is threatening to crack you. you seek control and organize your life into rows. you are the overseer. you are the porcelain. you find kindship in like-minded individuals of grey, noir, pearl and ashen, who share the pressure you put on yourself. you are also drawn to the expressive rose and lilac, who will help you grow and learn that things will be okay even if they don't go right. however, you may struggle to get along with the indulgent personalities of sky and apricot who need to much stimulation and decadence.

i was tagged by @resetme (excuse the delay!!) to do this uquiz and then make a moodboard with the colour. I don't know if i made it right but let me say that i loved the quiz, thank you!!!✨🫶🏻

i'm tagging (only if you want to of course)

@noraincsl @skidrow-seymour @anordinaryextinction @kristines-galaxy-of-blackholes @slamncram @andlatitude @storm-ec @littlesomnus @eachdayyoudrisewme @paperkatana @faeryfromthelake @powerofadyingsun @foster-the-pilots

[whirlwindav]

Thank you @the-paper-apricot for tagging me, love ya! 🩷❤️

last song: Appletree by Erykah Badu

last book: Wild Beauty by Anna-Marie Mclemore

last movie: Lars and the Real Girl

last tv show: Sex and the City ( I just finished it 😢)

sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet! A dark chocolate covered fig sounds amazing right now.

relationship status: Single <3

last thing I googled: Pink mascara recommendations

current obsession: Fragrances. I just bought myself a bottle of Vanilla Skin by Phlur and I already want to get another.

looking forward to: Going into the city tomorrow and seeing Wicked on Friday with my sisters.

I tag @edelizz @petuniasdomicile & @dumbcloud if you would like of course 🩷

[recitedemise]

Without a word, the vampire moved behind his lover, his approach soundless, an elegant ripple against the stillness. Arms wound around Gale’s waist, a familiar anchor, and his chin came to rest lightly on the wizard’s shoulder. Astarion's gaze flickered over the paper, part curiosity, part critique.

“They’re not bad…” His tenor lilted a whisper of unfinished thought process. “But… I could use a bit more.” Crimsons lifted, day-dreaming the scene into existence, fingers drummed softly against Gale’s side... always touching, always searching and kneading. “A few gradients, perhaps? Yellow bleeding into sunset orange… or blue fading into purple… Hm…”

Trailing off, Astarion’s cold lips brushed colder against the nook of Gale’s neck, more instinct than intent. A low hum thrummed with every tiny little nuzzle, affection mingling in the space between them. It wasn’t until the wizard’s demand that Astarion, a little too lost in his thoughts, or perhaps in Gale’s scent, was brought back to his senses. “Hm? Ah, yes… of course. I love you, my dear.” Words that hinged on the breath of a kiss, placed just beneath Gale’s jaw.

It wasn’t gratitude—not really. But it was something.

Elegant is certainly one way of looking at it. In hindsight, he supposes lions and tigers are elegant, too. Gale should wonder if it's normal, to feel like all a rabbit in the middle of a hunt, but it says a lot about him, doesn't it?, when the sight of fangs would thrill him? Yes. Astarion is elegant. A Botticelli'd thing.

Vividly, he would recall that memory, them talking of his hair over overpriced drinks. It's difficult to grasp it all, how far they have come from those down-to-earth rambles in that intimate bar. Gale feels the brush of that mouth, so breathless and lovely where his neck would beat and warm with pulse. He lacked the nerve to dream it, to imagine a day where he'd this man in his home, but feeling him lean against the hard of his backbone-- It's baffling. It, in some way, feels oh so familiar. "If we're to talk of gradients, I personally vote for a deep crimson fading into whatever shade of purple you're willing to call my shirt. But you know me," he banters. "I am a man of the arts. If it should help you at all, consider me your canvas."

I love you. His heart feels all jammy. Strawberry. Raspberry! Or that apricot with orange he'd so favored in his youth. It makes him oh so gooey, smiling as he grabs the tub of yogurt from the bag. The moment is kind, his gentle, cozy smile like those ones that'd pale the sun. Gale huffs half a sound, a hand settling kindly along the jut of that wrist. He's got groceries to unpack and a dinner to prepare! But... Shoes bumping, he waits and eggs for overdue kiss. "And I love you, more than words can ever hope to capture, but while I don't mean to seem ungrateful--" his eyes sliver up playfully "--I don't exactly believe that was a 'thank you' either."

[crepesuzette2023]

Thank you @the-paper-apricot for bringing this to my attention for my chaotic #J/P in others collection. This truly is Paul in Juliette Gréco mode, as you said...and the music suits him so well, too (Mary's theme, no less):

And it even has abstract Woodland shapes in the background...