#this is such good and promising information!

[discontinuedepisode]

When the ghost told him that her baby was still in that alley, Danny hadn't believed her, but anything he discovered would probably help anyway.

In her defense, he did find a baby. One with a faint aura of death lingering. Faint enough that the living wouldn't notice it with Danny around.

But then the woman begged him to take care of her baby. Not even two seconds later, he shed any plan of leaving him by an institution or a house and accepted his fate instead. The observers had to be laughing for the first time in eons.

That night, Myriam of the alley left satisfied at last.

His name, he finds later, is Damian.

Danny soon realized that the kid was odd. Beyond noticing the presence of blobs ghosts pretending to babysit him.

So maybe he was a bad influence, but the kid was weirder for not seeing them, truly! He just needed to pay closer attention. Because even though ghosts mostly didn't want to be seen by the living, Danny's close circle got leeway. And Dami was going to stick around.

A month later, they took a quick trip to Central City via portal to inform Tucker and Sam, at their latest exciting stop in the search of normality, that they now had a nephew until further notice. The duo had been in the middle of solving another impromptu supernatural case that involved moving foliage, so they wished him good luck before promising to get together sometime next month because, "the trees are gone, Sam!"

Some time later, Ellie stayed in his apartment for a week to remind him that everything his was hers and to inform him that news of her nephew were masking rounds in the Ghost Zone. Jazz apparently wanted to see them, too.

Soon enough, Jazz cooed at Damian's round cheeks for what felt like hours. All while scolding Danny for not thinking in advance about babies getting cold in the Zone. Since there were so many records of that. Oh, and Danny needed to think of a way to inform his parents, too.

He had many things to look forward to these days.

Meeting Batman for the first time had been a wake up call.

Unlike the elegant little bat with the sewn mouth he sometimes saw around. He was a nag who didn't believe him when he defended his treasure chest as an honest payment that was rightfully his to expend in rent and groceries.

He was oddly upset when Danny passed through him to get Damian.

Danny had almost called for Frighty that day but reconsidered. His toddler would not be harmed from the exposure, so Danny allowed himself to enjoy a longer session in the Zone, away from the overbearing Bat and his unending army of spooks.

Damian is de-aged to a baby and lost in Gotham. A magic user hit him with some kind of spell. His legs don’t work as well and he has trouble walking. That’s when a man appears and squats down with a tilt of his head.

“Yea, you are definitely not supposed to be out here, little guy.”

Damian glares at the man, early twenties, stubble along his jaw, ragged clothes, and dark bags under his eyes.

The man turns his head to look at the brick wall.

“Are you sure?”

And now he was talking to a wall. Curses. Of course he would be found by a crazy person.

The man suddenly hangs his head with a deep sigh. He regains himself quickly and stands. Moving closer to put his hands under Damian arms to lift him to perch on his hip.

Damian squirms to get down but refuses to make a sound. The last time he opened his mouth like this it was a pathetic baby sound. He couldn’t let this man see him like this.

“Looks like you’re coming home with me, little guy. I can tell you’ve got some spirit in you. Good, you’ll need it.”

Not ominous at all.

Damian stays with the man, mostly because he couldn’t physically drive a car, but also because he was almost always with him. The man would talk to air at the most random times. Obviously a schizophrenic. But Damian had to admit this man, Danny he comes to find out through a neighbor baby talking at him, has been genuinely trying to take care of him and take care of him well. Well, to the best of his abilities anyway. 

He feeds him organic purées that don’t taste half bad, except the carrots, that one was unacceptable. Danny cleans him regularly despite his crappy apartment and makes sure he is dressed appropriately for the weather. He makes an effort to take him out to the park to play in the sandbox or just walk around discovering ‘new’ things.

Damian doesn’t need a parent, he outgrew the concept when he was five and technically he already had one, but he could tell Danny would make an excellent father. Some mistakes can be overlooked compared to the effort he was putting in.

The only concerning thing was the talking to thin air. It took Damian an embarrassing amount of time to figure out the reason Danny was visiting all these random people and the graveyard. (Sometimes he will set Damian down to ‘play’ in the grass at the cemetery. It was quite odd.)

He was talking to ghosts. It wasn’t thin air or imaginary friends, no it was actually dead people. The reason Damian actually believes this is for two reasons.

One, Danny shows true results. Damian observes closely whenever they visit a ‘client’ and Danny always has accurate information despite never looking up or researching anything going in.

Two, he never calls himself a medium or psychic. He doesn’t boast about his ability to see ghosts. He does what he does to help the ghosts move on to the other side. Closure is what Danny always says. Closure for the family and the victim. In Gotham, there are a lot of victims.

Damian adjusts to his new life with Danny. It’s been five months and he’s getting used to being small and vulnerable. He’s allowed to be messy and whiny and childish. Danny never scolds him like Mother did. The man has never hit him or raised his voice at him and never expects anything from him. He encourages his progression to speak and walk, but doesn’t expect the best out of him.

It’s… nice. A good break if anything.

They are at the park when one of the bats spot him and pauses. Danny is blowing bubbles into the air and Damian tries to pop as many as he can. It’s a silly game with no clear rules, but Damian finds it entertaining nonetheless.

“Hi there! Is he yours?”

Dick Grayson wears a bright smile, but Damian can see the tightness around his eyes.

“Huh? Oh, yea, this is Damian,” Danny answers.

He had written it with the wooden blocks Danny had given him one week in. Danny took one look at the name on the ground, laughed loudly and ran with it.

“Do you mind if I say hi? He’s so cute.”

Danny looks puzzled by the request but ends up shrugging his shoulders, not seeing a problem with letting a stranger get close to Damian. (Damian knew Danny’s intense eyes were watching Dick’s every move. He was very protective like that.)

“Sure.”

Dick squats down to search Damian’s green eyes. Damian stares back just as intensely.

“Hey there, Damian. My name is Dick.”

Damian gives him a flat look at Dick’s terrible introduction.

“Grayson.”

Although with his little baby teeth not fully in it sounds more like ‘way-shah’.

Relief flashes across Dick’s face and he gives Damian a reassuring smile. It’s not as reassuring at he thinks it is. It promises to bring him home and restore him to his original age. Damian doesn’t know if that’s what he wants anymore.

Dick stands and gives Danny some imaginary excuse to leave quickly. Damian watches him go and so does Danny.

“Funny guy, huh Dami?”

Damian doesn’t respond and Danny notices his change in mood.

“Come here, little guy.”

He knows what Danny is going to do and willingly goes. He is pulled up into the man’s lap and held between two surprisingly muscular arms. Danny’s hugs are nice and warm. They aren’t too tight like Dick’s nor are they stiff like Bruce’s. He never thought he could enjoy human contact, but Danny has been showing him things about himself he didn’t ever know. Turns out he does like hugs and playing airplane and when Danny runs his fingers through his hair when he’s really sleepy.

“Let’s go home a little early today, huh? I’ll make spaghetti and you can be as messy as you want,” Danny promises.

Damian hums. Yes, that sounds nice.

That night Batman comes in through the window. Damian is waiting.

“Damian,” Batman whispers.

“Bah-mun.”

The flat, unamused stare is what gives him away.

Batman lets out a breath silently and reaches into the crib Danny had gotten him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Batman jerks into action, twisting to face Danny who had appeared suddenly. The door behind him is still closed.

Batman stays quiet, silently studying the man before him dressed in pajama pants and a worn t-shirt.

Danny tilts his head as he does the same. Damian has never seen the man so serious. He silently worries for the man. He didn’t want him getting hurt to unnecessarily protecting him from his father.

“I’d have to break your arm if you tried to do what it looks like you’re doing.”

Danny says it so plainly. So simple.

Batman straightens.

“He isn’t yours.”

He doesn’t say Damian is his. He doesn’t claim him as his own. Just that Danny shouldn’t have him.

Damian silently agrees because technically he’s right. He doesn’t deserve Danny. He can’t keep playing house like he’s an actual baby. But Damian is also selfish and over the last few months has been taught that it’s okay to ask for things he wants even if it’s not inherently beneficial. The stuffed dog he sleeps with every night is proof of that.

So Damian says nothing.

“He is now,” Danny answers simply like there was no other answer to such a statement.

“He needs to go back to where he belongs.”

“Over my dead body,” is the immediate response.

They stare each other down until Danny scoffs.

“Don’t think I’m not petty enough to fight you, Batman. I’ll fight anyone who wants to take him from me. Damian is mine.”

When Batman tries to forcibly take him, he ends up with a concussion, a blood nose, and two broken arms. Red Robin finds him in a dumpster the next morning.

The story continues with Damian learning how to be a child his age, Danny protecting him and doting on his brilliant son, and the Batfam’s frequent failed attempts to kidnap Damian back to them.

[ohimsummer]

PUCKER UP! ft. NERDJO

— minors dni, nerdjo x meangirl! reader, college! au, pegging, ass-eating, this started getting sloppy nasty lmao reader is a freak fr, hints of stsg, pet names (pretty boy, princess), kind of proofread

wc 3k….😭

it's easy to get satoru to do anything for you.

he's caught off guard when he opens the door to his dorm and you’re shoving yet another homework assignment in his hands, backing him into the room. he's easily victim to honeyed words from your glossy lips, the flutter of your eyelashes. though, if that isn't enough, a firm palm to his already-hardening bulge is sure to get you whatever you want. the gesture is topped off with a promised reward of sucking him dry, however, you're both painfully aware that you would have done so anyway.

satoru settles beside you on his bed, where you lay browsing through social media. he works dutifully, though still listening and responding to the mindless school gossip that no one else would ever let him know about. you keep him well-informed.

twenty minutes have passed, and you spare the papers a glance. it astounds you that satoru is already halfway finished in less than thirty minutes with what would have taken you at least an hour. it's easy for him...maybe a little too easy. maybe a little unfair.

"you're working too fast.", you huff, wrinkling your nose.

satoru pauses, pen hovering over the paper. he looks between you and your homework. "... is that a problem...?"

you sit up on his bed, staring in disdain at the half-finished work in his lap. "if it was? you're not just rushing, are you?"

here he comes with the pouting. satoru is extremely confident in his work, and he knows you know he'd never let you get a bad grade. "don't critique me, i know what i'm doing–“

"bend over, i'm bored."

his jaw falls slack as you tug open the drawer next to his bed, and pull out the lengthy, baby-blue toy hidden away.

"you–, now–?", he sputters. "i'm in the middle of–"

"oh, shut it, shut it.", you wave off his complaints with a manicured hand. "can't you multitask?"

satoru opens his mouth to give a snarky reply, but his words fall short when you slip the tip of the dildo between your lips. he can feel your eyes on him, but his gaze won't leave the way the toy disappears into your mouth, and blood goes rushing to fill the half-erect hard-on he's been sporting since you got here.

you pull the dildo from your mouth with a 'pop!'. "so? be a good boy and bend over for me?"

it's kind of funny, how you don't even have to touch him or bat a lash or use that one flirty tone that makes his head spin, yet satoru still tugs his own shirt off and pants down. he faces away to lower his head and present his round ass to you. a finger traces over the hem of his boxers, embedded with two bold sets of initials on them: yours and an S.G. not satoru's own name, of course.

with a quick kiss to his thigh, you're pulling the white boxers down his legs and tossing them inside. satoru's asshole sits bare and on display for you, puckered and twitching as you admire him.

as if reading your thoughts, he mumbles, "don't stare so much..."

you break gaze with the hole inches from your face to raise a brow at your boyfriend. "shouldn't you be doing my homework?"

"uh–“, he scrambles to form a sentence."yeah, but–"

"pass me the lube and the harness, too."

satoru obeys your command, reaching into the still-open drawer to pull out a bottle of strawberry-flavoured lubricant and a light blue, leather harness. he reaches back a hand to give it to you, where you snatch both items from his grasp and satoru immediately hears the sound of the tube cap clicking open.

not wanting to be chastised again, satoru tries his hardest to steer his focus back to the papers beside him. the pencil trembles in his hand, but he manages to write all of three words before feeling your finger circling his hole.

he jolts, his face flushes at your mischievous giggle behind him, and satoru coerces his body to relaxation once more. it's a feat which is basically impossible when his mind is fixed on the way your finger traces the rim of his entrance, and the more subtle, wet sounds of you massaging lube into the dildo.

"i don't see you doing any work.", you scold him, and satoru yelps when you pluck a harsh finger against his hole. despite the surprise, his dick twitches at the mild discomfort.

pushing himself again to focus on the blurry words and math problems in front of him, satoru mashes the lead a little harder than he should into the paper, clenching the pencil tightly in his fist. he blocks out the movements and sounds going on behind him: the slick pumping of the dildo strapped to your waist, your other hand clutching and gripping either ass cheek in your palm, sinking nails into the skin for a quick lesson in pain before the pad of your thumb pokes and prods at his puckered hole again.

this lasts for what seems like an eternity before a new sensation sends a shiver up his spine, something that forces a gasp from his lips and raises the thin hairs on his neck. it's warm, wet, and familiar—the overwhelming feel of your tongue bullying its way into his insides.

"hey, hey, i–i won't be able to focus if you're doing that–!", satoru whines, but you pay him no mind. his fists wrench the fabric of the comforter as the slimy, pink muscle worms inside.

behind him, you moan at the flavor, slipping your tongue from his orifice to flatten it against his pale skin, running it from satoru's balls to the top of his ass crack. satoru flinches when you spit on his hole, and whines like a mutt in heat at the sloppy way you make out with his asshole. every kiss and bite to his cheeks has him tightening around your tongue, but you wriggle it with a driven intent to get him nice and loose for the absolute pounding you're about to bestow upon him. it's disgusting, and satoru fucking loves it.

he's so lost in you and your heavenly tongue that he almost doesn't register the warmth spreading in his lower body. it's at the last second that satoru lets out a strangled moan and his first orgasm comes washing over him. ropes of cum shoot out to coat his bare thighs and chiseled abdomen as satoru squirms from the sheer pleasure. he's so fidgety, he almost lets your assignment go slipping off the edge of the bed. it’s grabbed just in time, and he shoves it a little further away to avoid any more of the wet spots his drool has already stained into them.

you let him have his fun, come down from his little high, and then satoru feels your touch retreat from his sensitive behind. "did you still plan on getting that done today, or...?"

satoru shivers, and cranes his neck to give you a puppy-eyed gaze, tears having built up on his lash line. "...it's hard."

his poor, pathetic, puppy-dog tone and the deep pink tint across his cheeks and up to his ears yank at your heartstrings. it's times like this where you feel bad for being mean to him, even if it's all an act. satoru's just so fucking cute, he reminds you that can't keep up the cruel demeanor towards him forever.

"ohh.", you coo at your nerdy, loser boyfriend and peck short kisses onto his ass cheeks. "you want me to go slower, baby?"

"yes. yes, please.", he whines. "i can't focus to finish your work."

so adorable. truthfully you couldn't give less of a fuck about the papers anymore, but it's still a little endearing that even in such a position, satoru is still determined to get you the passing grade you don't deserve.

as promised, you take it down a notch, just to give him more control of his thoughts. and satoru figured taking things a step back would do wonders when you weren't absolutely ravishing his hole, but this...this may be significantly worse.

the once intense fervor of your movements has been replaced with a skillful precision. every stroke and flick of your tongue around his rim feels more pleasurable than the last, and satoru's cock jerks and aches at the slow, sensual sucks to his ass. you replace the dig of your nails with the occasional, unforgiving smack!, only to layer on top a coat of soothing kisses. the drawn-out movements make him even more conscious of every single thing you're doing.

but still, your plan was to grace him with some mercy, and satoru won't allow you to say he didn't at least try. so, with newfound strength, he squeezes the pen in his hand, and he gets to work.

his body remains painfully aware of the thrills and pleasure you shower him with, and satoru struggles to keep those feelings at bay from distracting his mind. it's a challenge, but satoru does likes a challenge, and he finds he's managed to complete the remaining bottom half of the current page. this is it. he's on the final paper, so close to the finish line, before he can stop having to worry about it. and then he feels your gentle tap on his thigh.

it takes him out of the space he's forced himself into. satoru turns until he just sees you in his peripherals. "huh? what's wrong?"

"nothing.", you reassure him. "do you want to pack that up before i start?"

'start?', he thinks, and then he feels the slap of the rubber dildo between his ass cheeks. "ah, um–“

his throat goes dry, and you gliding the heavy length back-and-forth along his asshole doesn't help in the slightest.

"just do your best, okay? i'm happy with a B."

satoru isn't happy with anything below an A-, but the complaint is stripped from his tongue as he feels the thick tip of your cock sinking into his hole. even with your slow movements, it knocks the wind from his lungs, and all he can let out is a choked moan. stuck gripping the streets, his cheek is smushed against the bed and his mouth agape, until satoru finally feels you flush against the back of his thighs.

there’s a beat, then your encouraging voice in his ear: “breath, satoru.”

a second later and you can see the tension leaving his larger, toned body. your hands make a delicate path up the curve of his back, massaging his sensitive nape which leaves him gasping, before one of them trails back up his spine. you apply pressure as you go, further pronouncing the arch in satoru’s pliant body, and the wandering hand ends at his hip.

slowly, you unsheathe the girthy, faux length from his ass, revealing more and more and more until only the tip remains. his hole tightens, and you don’t think you’ve ever been so jealous of both a man or a piece of fucking silicone in your entire life. you’d kill to have a real one right now, to feel satoru’s moist insides and the way he’d clench around you, sucking you in further and further until you were stuck balls deep in him. it’s fucking unfair.

“m–move, please.”, he begs in such a soft mewl. so needy, so impatient. so spoiled as you plunge your cock into him again.

a sharp gasp flees his lips, followed by satoru's strangled moan as you bury yourself to the hilt. there’s a prominent vein on the back of his hand from how tightly he grips the sheets, pillow, anything satoru can get his hands on.

though you move languidly, satoru quickly dissolves into an utter wreck. your hands hold tight onto his waist with initial intent to keep him steady, but his moans bring out a crazed animal in you. soon you're manhandling him back-and-forth to meet the ever-growing roughness of your thrusts. the sound of you pounding into him can't even be heard over the slutty noises tumbling out into the open air, hitting all four walls to fill the dorm room. it makes you ache, yearning for some relief other than the occasional friction of the harness against your clit.

"fuck, you're so hot.", you lean down and pant against his ear. satoru babbles something you can’t understand, and it makes you laugh. you can't help mock him a little.

"so loud, too.", comes the bratty taunt, and satoru whimpers out a barely coherent 'sorry'. god, he's so cute and pathetic. you feel like you're bullying him, corrupting your little nerd boyfriend, and it turns you on tenfold.

"aren't people living in the dorm next to you? they’re gonna be pissed.", you tease further, though never letting up on your thrusts and in fact picking up the pace. "these walls are pretty thin. suguru was here yesterday, did you get a noise complaint?"

"mhm."

that response catches you off guard—his audible confirmation along with a weak nod of the head.

"are you serious?" satoru nods again, and you let out an incredulous scoff. "damn, i was just kidding. i may have to go harder, then, i want them to know how well i treat you, too!"

it’s all gibberish in satoru's mind. with such scrambled thoughts, he can barely hold on to a thing you're saying, let alone worry about maintaining his now continuously waning status as a considerate neighbor.

"c'mere." your words sound muffled amongst the fog in his head. satoru strains his eyes and barely sees your blurry figure hovering over him. "pass me the pillow, babe."

he flails a feeble hand in the general direction of said object, finally landing on the soft cushion and using what—in his current state—feels like an absurd amount of strength in order to hand it back to you. a second later, he feels you tugging at his waist. “lift your hips up.” and, ever the helpful boyfriend, satoru uses every bit of remaining energy in his bones to raise his body.

"look at you, my good little loser." he feels you squeeze the pillow between him and the bed, and then goes limp again beneath you. his cock twitches at the soft pressure surrounding his length. it reminds him of a fleshlight, something you and suguru make sure he's extremely familiar with.

there's a 'smack!', and satoru whimpers at the sharp slap to one of his ass cheeks. you knead at the fat flesh in your hands, dulling the pain, and pull satoru’s ass apart to stare at the way his hole quivers and tightens around you.

"do you like being lazy?”, you tease. "letting me do most of the work?" he nods. "say it. tell me you’re my pretty little pillow princess.”

"i’m y–your pretty–, pretty pillow princess.", satoru moans with a cheek against the mattress, and lets out a feeble cry when you give his ass another loud smack.

"mmm, yeah." a sinister grin paints itself across your lips. your hands continue squeezing satoru’s sore ass in your palms, and your boyfriend groans in pleasure as you begin fucking into him again. "fuck, such a good toy for me."

you say something else, something he doesn’t hear, if not for satoru’s bedframe thudding against the wall, or the lewd slapping of skin on skin, then definitely because of his own moans echoing in his ears. there’s a short pause. satoru registers the dip of the mattress on each side of his head, and the blurry details of your manicure. the ticklish touch of your fingers brush against his forehead, moving locks of stark white hair to reveal more of his gorgeous face.

"my pretty boy.”

satoru whines at the praise before feeling the length of your cock rubbing against his prostate. it's calm at first, a frustratingly slow grind against his ass where he can feel the silicone balls of your strap up against his own. but soon you're picking up pace, slamming into him with each thrust, thrusts that send satoru flying forward every time you plunge deep into him again. every rock of your hips against his brushes satoru’s leaking cock harder and faster along the pillow under his body. it feels out of this world, and all too much to endure.

the heat and pleasure overrunning satoru has steadily evolved from a slow trickle, to growing waves, to a huge tsunami bearing down on him. his entire body is searing; he releases a particularly loud cry of your name as cum shoots straight into the fluff of the pillow, soaking deep inside the fabric as waves of pleasure flood over him. tears burn at his hazy, blue eyes, making it impossible to see clearly, but that doesn't matter when satoru's eyes are wrenched shut anyway as you slow to another grind against his ass, fucking him through his final orgasm.

satoru lies there, trembling and taking in heaving breathes of air. he lets out one last pathetic whimper when you pull out, leaving his hole tragically empty, but still accepts the press of a few soft kisses to his pink, tear-stained cheeks.

"satoru?", you whisper softly against his ear. “all good?” and you give him another kiss on the forehead when he gives a weak nod. "atta boy, you did so well. i'm going to get you a towel, 'kay?"

your boyfriend only makes a weak effort to grasp your hand, but you understand what he’s asking for, regardless. “fine, pretty boy. i’m right here, just relax and catch your breath for me.”

and, as usual, satoru follows your instructions without question. he is comforted by the gentle squeeze of your hand, the caress of your fingers through his hair, and the doting kisses you place on his shoulders, neck, and face. eventually, his brain is empty, drained. satoru begins dozing off to sleep in a far-away land—away from his room and away from homework, yet still surrounded by your soft, lingering presence.

🩵: @staryukis @lxnarphase @anthoosies @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @snowsilver2000 @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @starlightanyaaa @domainexpansionmypants @giasssslife @babytoshiii @kissesfrombelle @v0ctin @purplegemadventures @luvvforliaa @apatuaia @sataraxia @leilalilox @sugu-love @manyno @the-monster-under-the-bed @blindbabycadder @xinfvl @jianyuu4mii @sherb3t @sugoroo @hellokittyish @satorvs @notdwenby @mamshousehusband @rubiesoferebor @andyramblingstuff @gojosbabyma @ravenbc @superkoolartist @nillosgarden

[tsuyalovebot]

cw. sfw. knight caleb x princess reader, royalty au — short drabble based on upcoming piece. :]

Once upon a time, you and Caleb swore to never let yourself be divided. Honeysuckle sweet on your tongue, some flowers strewn into your hair after rolling around in the grass, the younger version of him had plucked the petals out from the tangled strands. It was when the naïvety of childhood consumed your thoughts, and nothing else mattered but the center of your framed universe.

"I'll never let us be separated," he had whispered, as if afraid of letting anyone else hear, even though it'd only been you.

The words of a child were fickle, but so was the mind at the age of ten. With a grin adorned by empty spaces of some of your teeth, you tackled him — laughter echoing in the yard as you rolled down the hill together.

As you lay side by side in a bed of grassy weeds near the riverbed, your pinky finger is extended toward his. Purple eyes met yours, fond.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Your pinkies locked, and you maneuvered your hands to hold his.

And like a man of honor, a title he's brushed off countless times, he keeps his word. Even after you're swept away into a palace and a life so far beyond your child self, sobbing at the unfamiliarity, his temporary absence from your life.

You're soon to be sixteen when you're sitting by the vanity, Grandma in the doorway as you're preparing yourself for the morning. It's a lush bedroom, unlike the humble attic you and Caleb often slept in. Times of the countryside still flood your memory every time you subconsciously compare the opulence of palatial vessels to your quaint home.

And, like clockwork, there's three knocks from the balcony door.

Grandma lifts a brow in suspicion when you do not spare a glance toward the noise. She's dressed in lavish robes, yet looks no less graceful as the day she took you in.

"I beg of you, tell me that isn't Caleb."

Your lips lift into a smile. "I regret to inform you, it most likely is."

And when the doors click open, fresh air rushing into your bedchambers, the sound of metal rattling comes with the rhythm of his footfall.

You turn. He's already got that signature boyish grin, a hand on his hip as his brows lift in acknowledgment. Fresh from his morning routine, it would seem, the gleam of his exposed triceps from his training attire.

"My Lady."

To attempt to hide your glee would be a blatant mistruth. So you allow your joy to show in your face as he crosses the space eagerly, heart skipping a beat in time with his steps.

"My knight."

He kneels at your side, seeking your hand to grace it with a teasingly soft kiss, before intertwining your fingers with his gloved ones. That's new. You must look ready to inquire on the new gesture incorporated in your daily greeting, because he simply sends you a disarming smile. Perhaps, it shall come at another time.

"This morning, you are as luminous as the moon was last night," Caleb declares, squeezing your palm.

You squeeze back before you could think much of it, forgoing etiquette. It takes a moment, but you glare at him.

"There was no moon last night, idiot—"

Before you could raise your other hand to unleash a flurry of attacks on his person, Grandma's exasperation radiates from the doorway in waves. "Caleb, doors exist for good reason. Can't you simply knock?"

He spares her a glance. Mischief flits in and out of his eyes. "I did knock. Thrice, might I add."

"It is improper of you to enter through the balcony of an unmarried woman."

You scooch over on your cushioned seat, letting him sit beside you. It's natural to lean your weight onto him once he does; this time, he does not try and dissuade you with the poor excuse of him being dirty.

You give your grandmother a gentle smile, laughing at her scowl. "I've permitted him to enter through the balcony. And he is my knight. It shouldn't be an issue, no?"

You could feel Caleb press his nose to your hair, approval thick in his manner. As you swat at his head, your grandmother sighs deeply before striding over to the two of you. Caleb's arm, which was slung around your shoulder, is promptly pushed off. He groans from your side, and you pout.

"You are to be of age soon. It is important that you two must behave appropriately by then."

"I know, I know. I always do my best," Caleb says halfheartedly. You stare at him, incredulous because since when did he ever? He gives you an amused look, pinches your nose after. "Don't look at me like that, you. The only reason we ever end up like this is from your insistence."

You huff, "so, you don't appreciate my company?"

He deadpans. "Now, you know for a fact that that is not true."

Grandma sighs yet again, prying you off of your lounging position against his firmer body. Her hands direct your posture, straightening your back and shoulders despite your open groans and complaints. Caleb laughs from beside you, pokes at your sides while you powder your face just to annoy you, surely. She's still trying to redirect your behavior, lecturing the two of you — not like you nor Caleb were listening.

It takes a while for you to notice, but he's still holding your hand. You don't let go. Neither does he.

You are turning sixteen when Caleb holds your hand for the first time in half a decade.

You are eighteen when he lets go of you.

[celestialgallaghers]

Double Dare Ya pt 2 [18+]

Part 1

I’m sorry this took so long I kept changing my mind on where I wanted it to go. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: Still reeling from your encounter with Noel, you find yourself not wanting to see him again. That is, until you run into him in a place you really should've expected, now face to face with the memory that’s been haunting you.

Word count: 7.6k

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You paced the length of your flat, chewing at your thumbnail. You weren’t entirely sure why you felt this way. 

Well, maybe a little. 

Jo already knew, obviously. She’d guessed as much. But that wasn’t what had you on edge.

It was what came next.

She’d want to talk about it. Pick it apart. Ask you how you felt. And a week after the incident, you still didn’t have an answer.

What you did know was that you felt guilty. You’d been avoiding her calls for days and it was starting to weigh on you.

Soon after she’d caught you, she had her little "told you so" moment, but the second she started prying, you shut down. You’d barely been able to process it yourself, let alone talk about it. Instead, you mumbled a half-assed promise to talk soon and basically ran all the way home without saying another word to anyone.

But now, after days of radio silence, you had no excuse.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up the receiver and dialed her number. 

"Finally," Jo answered on the first ring, exasperation evident. "I was about to send a search and rescue team to make sure you were still alive."

You winced. "I know, I know. I’m sorry. I should've called sooner, I just… didn’t really know what to say. And I still don’t, so don’t expect much," you warned.

You could practically hear the smug smile in her voice as she waited for you to continue.

Then, a sudden realization struck, sending a wave of panic over you. You weren’t her only source of information in this situation. 

"You… uh, didn’t talk to him about this, did you?" you asked hesitantly.

"Noel?" she half-laughed. "No, I trust you way more to tell me the truth."

Your pulse slowed, but only slightly. At least that was one less thing to worry about.

"But," she continued, "I did see him briefly, a few hours after you left. Completely off his head with some other bird, doing god knows what." She huffed. "Sorry." 

She added it as an afterthought, as if you’d be hurt by this information.

"No, no, it’s not like that at all," you said quickly. "This was just a one-time thing. I really couldn’t care less who he’s screwing."

It was easier that way. Knowing it wasn’t a big deal to him. And yet, somewhere deep in the back of your mind, there was a flicker of something that you didn’t want to name. It was quickly smothered.

"I think I just want to put the whole thing behind me," you said, hoping to make it sound final. "Chalk it up to a moment of weakness."

She was quiet for a moment. "Really? Well that’s a shame. I think you two would get on well."

You huffed out a laugh, trying hard to downplay her words. "I think I’ve had enough of your matchmaking, thanks."

Silence stretched between you. She was obviously waiting for you to continue.

You twirled the phone cord between your fingers anxiously. "So, um, I guess you already know what happened, but I don’t really know where to start and I know you have questions so—" 

"You sucked him off, right?" she cut in bluntly.

You choked. "Well, no, I—"

She gasped. "Oh my God, you fucked him? Right in that dirty field? You little slut!"

"Christ, let me finish," you groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. "I just gave him a handy. That’s all."

God, what was happening? You weren’t a prude by any means, but just saying the words out loud made your face burn like you were confessing some deep, filthy secret.

"Oh, that’s all is it?" she teased, amused by your flusteredness. "Must not have been a good one if he was fishing for more after."

"Oh, shut up," you shot back. "It was good enough."

"Was it?" she prodded, clearly fishing for more.

You hesitated. "Yes it was." 

Flashes of Noel’s trembling body beneath you surfaced in your mind, unbidden. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing them away.

"And that’s all you’re getting," you added firmly.

She tsked. "What’s the point of having girlfriends if we can’t talk about how men are in the sack?"

You sighed. "This is different, and you know it. He’s… well, him. And you’re friends with him too. It doesn’t feel right."

And while you knew Noel didn’t exactly shy away from bragging about his sex romps, something told you that whatever happened in that field wasn’t exactly routine for him. Or at least you thought so. Although you could be entirely wrong. You barely knew him for fucks sake. 

Either way, the idea of sharing the details didn’t sit right with you. Jo could keep a secret, sure. But still… you didn’t want to tell her.

"Then what’s the point of even calling me?" she grumbled.

"Fine," you huffed. You had to placate her in some way. "All you’re getting is that he’s a good kisser. Spread the word I’m sure it’d inflate his ego even more," you said dryly.

She sighed dramatically. "Fine. D’you think you want to see him again?"

You bit your lip. You didn’t really know the answer to that. 

The logical answer was no. You should avoid him. Avoid every place he might be. The idea of facing him again made your stomach churn. Would it be awkward? Would he act smug about it? Or worse—would he brush it off completely?

And yet another part of you was saying yes. Because what if he wanted more? The thought had never fully formed before now, but the moment it did, it burrowed deep. The whole thing had been amusing and incredibly filthy. 

But would he want it again?

Would you?

It seemed impossible. He was famous. He did this all the time, didn’t he? It was meaningless. That’s what you should believe.

And yet, that glimmer of vulnerability, of realness, it had enthralled you much more than you would've liked to admit. 

Not that you’d ever admit that to Jo.

"I don’t know," you admitted. "I don’t think so."

"Why not?"

"It’s…too confusing. Like I said, it was just a one-time thing." 

She was quiet for a moment. Like she was holding back her disappointment. 

"Well, I’m not gonna force you," she said, "but I think you should reconsider."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Jo."

"All I’m saying is that you guys would—"

"Jo, I’m hanging up now."

"Wait!" was all you heard before you slammed the phone back onto the receiver, exhaling sharply.

Fucking hell what had you gotten yourself into.

❦ ❦ ❦

True to your word, you became hyper-aware of everywhere you went. 

The city was massive yet it suddenly felt suffocating, like you were navigating a minefield. No matter how much you tried to avoid him, Oasis was inescapable. Their songs followed you into every shop, their faces stared back at you from every magazine stand. It was maddening. Everywhere you turned, there he was. A reminder of that night. It was like the universe was playing some cruel joke on you.

One night, you flicked on the telly only to be met with Noel’s face. He was on some late-night interview show, sprawled lazily in his seat, exuding that signature self-assurance. Your thumb hovered over the remote, hesitating. Watching him now, it almost felt like you knew something about him that no one else did. Because for all his bravado, for all his sharp words and easy smirks, he was actually quite malleable. Quick to break if you knew where to apply the right pressure. 

Then, as if on cue, he flashed the camera a crooked smile, and for a moment all you could think about were the broken moans that had fallen from that very mouth. The weight of him in your hand. The way he had unraveled beneath you. 

A flush of heat curled in your stomach, creeping lower before you could stop it. 

With a sharp inhale, you grabbed the remote and switched off the TV, tossing it aside like it had burned you.

You needed to get a fucking grip.

Nights out had become a hassle too. 

Jo kept trying to drag you along, promising Noel wouldn’t be there, but you didn’t want to tempt fate. No matter how much you didn’t want to, you spent night after night in your flat, drinking alone, watching trashy TV with a scowl on your face. You knew you couldn’t keep this up forever, but it needed to blow over before you were less on edge. 

Yesterday, though, Jo had finally lost her patience.

"I don’t understand what’s so bad about what happened that you won’t even face him. This is starting to get a bit ridiculous. You're gonna have to come out of hiding at some point."

She was right of course. What was so bad about it? You were starting to feel too much like a coward. 

Her words still rang in your mind tonight. And after one too many glasses of wine, irritation was starting to creep in.

Why the hell were you letting him dictate your life like this? You’d spent weeks holed up like some estranged recluse, avoiding places you used to love. And for what? Noel fucking Gallagher?

It was pathetic really. And you were over it. 

Before you could overthink it, you were rifling through your closet, yanking out the most flattering dress you owned. Twenty minutes later, you were out on the streets, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. Like shedding an old skin. A rebirth. A good fuck would be just the thing to snap you out of this.

You hadn’t even registered where your feet were taking you until you found yourself outside the same club where this whole mess with Noel had started. 

Well. If there was ever a place to begin again, this was as good as any.

The fleeting thought that he might be inside entered your mind, but you ignored it. You were too determined to care. And besides fuck him. You didn’t owe him anything.

It didn’t take long before a man approached you. He was attractive enough, at least for what you needed tonight. When he offered to buy you a drink, you let him. You laid it on thick—laughing at his mediocre jokes, brushing your knees together, a coy smile curving your lips.

When he asked you to dance, you didn’t hesitate. This new version of you liked dancing. For a while, you let yourself melt into the music, let the bass vibrate through your bones, let the alcohol dull the edges of everything sharp.

His body was pressed against yours, radiating heat and hands roaming. It was making you feel alive. Letting yourself revel in the heady mix of sweat, liquor, and fleeting affection. It felt good. It felt easy. 

You were breathless and flushed, and when he leaned down and asked if you wanted to get out of there, you agreed without a second thought.

The two of you stumbled through the club, laughter bubbling in your throat as you leaned into him, ready to disappear into the night. But the moment shattered when you rounded the corner and collided heavily with another pair of bodies.

"Watch it, cunt," he voice was sharp, impatient. Familiar.

Your stomach plummeted.

Noel.

His eyes locked onto yours, and you felt rooted to the spot. Your mind was suddenly infuriatingly blank. For all the time you’d spent avoiding him, you hadn’t once considered what you’d say if you actually saw him again.

For a fleeting second, something unreadable flickered across his face. Was he thinking the same thing? Or had you not even crossed his mind since that night?

"Sorry mate," the man beside you muttered, breaking you out of your sudden trance. You’d nearly forgotten he was there. His arm slipped around your waist, and the touch suddenly felt like acid burning your skin. 

Noel’s gaze flicked down, tracking the movement. His jaw tightened just slightly, just enough for you to see it if you were looking. And you were looking.

You forced yourself to look elsewhere. That’s when you noticed he wasn’t alone. A brunette clung to him. Not the same one as last time, but close enough. 

Right. 

This was what he did. Moved from one woman to the next like it meant nothing.

Again the irritation flared hot in your chest. Now you remembered why you were avoiding him.

"Noel," you greeted smoothly, summoning every ounce of detachment you had.

His lips curled into something smug, his usual arrogance snapping back into place. "Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again, love."

"Yeah, well," you tilted your head, mirroring his smugness. "Let’s hope this is the last time."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, amusement glinting in his eyes as his gaze dragged over you before flicking dismissively to the man at your side.

"Enjoy her, mate," he said, voice light but laced with something else. "She’s a right good time."

Then he winked at you and sauntered off, pulling his brunette along with him.

You exhaled sharply, tempted to grab the nearest object and hurl it at the back of his head. 

So that was it then.

"Was that Noel Gallagher?" The guy beside you squinted after him. "Do you know him?"

You clenched your jaw. "Not really."

He studied you for a moment before adding, almost absently, "Y’know, you kinda look like that girl he was with."

Something twisted violently inside you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away.

"Hey, wait! Where are you going?"

You ignored him. His voice sharpened behind you, something ugly creeping into his tone, but you didn’t stop. You just kept moving, his thick Mancunian accent you hadn’t noticed before faded into background noise.

This had been a stupid idea. A really, really stupid idea. 

Gripping the edges of the sink, you stared at yourself in the club’s bathroom mirror, swaying slightly. The fluorescent lights cast sharp shadows across your face, making you look as wrecked as you suddenly felt.

You exhaled hard, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. The night had gone sideways. Now you were just drunk and alone. Again.

You reckoned you should probably go home, but your limbs felt restless, skin too hot, mind buzzing with unspent frustration.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed open the door and stepped back into the hallway. 

As you passed the exit leading to the alley, your eyes caught on it for a moment.

What the hell might as well. It was hallowed ground now.

You pushed the door open, welcoming the rush of cool air. You had just wrapped your fingers around your pack when a voice cut through the quiet.

"Where’d your man go?"

You froze. 

No fucking way. 

Sure enough, Noel emerged from the shadows, cigarette perched between his lips, the ember casting a faint glow over his face.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you tried to suppress the aggravation rising in your chest. "Where’s your model?"

"Sent her home." he replied easily, smoke curling from his lips.

You considered walking away. That would be the smart thing to do. You didn’t need to stand here and entertain his bullshit. But there was just enough alcohol in your system, just enough lingering frustration in your chest, to make you stay. To push back.

"Were you waiting out here for me?" you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

A slow smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe." He shrugged, taking another drag. "Thought it was worth a shot."

Oh. You hadn’t expected him to be upfront about it. Something about the way he said it so casually made it worse. Like he already knew you wouldn’t walk away. And you knew it too.

His gaze dragged down your body, eyes lingering in a way that sent a prickle of heat across your skin. 

"S’nice dress."

"Thanks, I was dying for your approval," you deadpanned.

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, unfazed. "So, what brings you back here tonight?"

"Same thing as you, I presume."

His brows lifted. "What, him?" He jerked his head toward the club. "C’mon. You can do much better than that."

"Oh yeah? Like what, you?" you said, not even considering the implications until the words were out of your mouth. 

His grin widened, all teeth, all ego. He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, you said it. Not me."

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "Jesus, do you ever stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Deflecting. Acting like nothing ever gets to you," you said, folding your arms. "Like you're untouchable."

His smirk didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes.

"And what, you think you’ve got me all figured out, yeah?"

"I think you're exhausting."

He let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, well. Can’t win ‘em all."

You narrowed your eyes. "So that’s it? That’s the whole act?"

"Dunno what you mean."

"Yes, you do," you pressed. "This little performance you put on is bullshit. You always go on about how real you are, but this—this is fake as fuck. And I can’t believe more people don’t see through it."

Something flashed in his gaze. It was subtle, but it was there. He took a slow drag, exhaling through his nose, like he was buying himself time.

"And what if there’s nothin’ to see through?" His voice was even, but there was an edge to it now. "What if this is just who I am? Arrogant cunt."

You studied him, trying to pick apart the layers he kept so tightly wound. He was good at this. Keeping people at arm’s length, at never letting anyone see past the smirk.

But you'd seen something else.

You tilted your head slightly, voice quieter now. "No. I know that’s not entirely true."

His amusement faltered, just slightly. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I happened to really like the version of Noel I met in that field."

His expression flickered again. And for the first time since this conversation started, he didn’t have a response ready.

His mouth opened slightly, then shut. He inhaled deeply, tapping ash from his cigarette, gaze flicking away for just a second.

"And which version was that?" His voice was different now. Lower. Cautious.

Your stomach flipped.

There were two versions, weren’t there? The one who had been laid-back, at ease, warm in a way that had caught you off guard. And then the other one. The one who had let you undo him completely. The one you couldn’t stop thinking about, no matter how hard you tried.

The silence between you was tight, buzzing. A question waiting to be answered.

You weren’t sure if he wanted to go there. If he wanted to acknowledge what had happened. Or if he’d rather let it fade into nothing.

There was really only one way to find out. 

You swallowed before speaking. "You know which one." Your voice was lower now. Careful. Calculated. Just in case he chose to pretend he didn’t hear the subtext.

His gaze flitted away for the briefest moment, like he was considering his next move, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to acknowledge it. When he looked back at you, something in his expression had shifted. Less cocky, more guarded.

You grinned. "What? No witty comeback?" You stepped closer, emboldened by his silence. The longer he stayed quiet, the bigger your smile grew.

The cigarette between his fingers hung idly, forgotten. You reached out, plucking it from his hand before bringing it to your lips, dragging slowly. Your fingers barely brushed, but the contact sent a spark skittering up your arm.

He watched you silently, his expression unreadable. Even as you blew the smoke directly into his face, he barely reacted. He just kept his eyes on you, like he was working something out in his head. 

Then, like he’d been holding it in for too long, he asked, "Why’d you run off?"

Now it was your turn to be thrown. You hadn’t expected him to confront you on that. 

Why had you run? Because staying had felt like stepping off a ledge. Because the weight of the moment had pressed too hard against your ribs, and the uncertainty had been suffocating. 

What would he have said afterward? Would he have just rolled over, lit a cigarette, and acted like it was nothing? The fear of the unknown had sent you running before he had the chance to make you regret staying.

But you weren’t about to tell him that.

You took another drag, letting the smoke linger in your lungs, buying yourself a few extra seconds before responding. 

"Look, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of groupies overstay their welcome. I just figured I’d make things easier for you by leaving before you had to ask me to, okay?"

He stared at you for a long moment. 

"I don’t think of you as a groupie," he said finally.

You narrowed your eyes. "Don’t you?"

He exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. "No groupies don’t usually make me work this hard."

You raised a brow. "Is that what this is? Work?"

He tilted his head slightly, considering you. "Let’s just say you’re not making it easy for me."

You weren’t sure why, but that response sent something sharp and unexpected through you. Maybe because it felt dangerously close to admitting something.

Silence settled between you, thick with something unspoken. The air between you had become charged and neither of you seemed to know where to go from here.

You took one final drag on his cigarette before flicking it away, the ember sparking briefly against the pavement.

At some point the space between you had shrunk, unconsciously drifting toward each other. It was like he had some sort of magnetic field that you’d gotten pulled into. And now you were now stuck in it. 

Your gaze lifted to his. He was already watching you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

You parted your lips slightly, but no words came out.

His gaze dipped to your mouth. Then back up. 

Your heart pounded.

Oh, fuck it. 

You closed the shrinking gap and kissed him.

He responded instantly. His hand slid to your back, pulling you against him, the heat of his body searing through the thin layers of fabric between you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and the noise it pulled from him, deep and needy, sent something sharp and electric surging through you.

He tasted just like you remembered. Or maybe better. Just as intoxicating, just as addictive.

At first he seemed tentative, unsure. But then he melted into it, kissing you back with a quiet urgency that made your knees weak.

"I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you," he gasped against your lips.

Heat flared in your chest. And something else. Something akin to pride.

"Me either," you admitted, voice just above a whisper.

You felt him smirk. "Oh really?"

"Yeah." Your fingers tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. "But don’t let it go to your head."

You deepened the kiss, swallowing the groan that slipped from him. The sound sent a shiver straight through you, and fuck you wanted more of it. More of him.

You nipped at his lower lip just to hear him again. Another soft noise escaped him, and you drank it in greedily.

Now you knew. Knew where you could take him. And god you wanted to see it again.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your grip on his waist tightening. "Come back to mine."

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face before you turned, making your way down the alley.

He followed.

The ride back to your flat had been…eventful. 

Noel had called his driver, and the two of you had slipped into the backseat, your legs brushing together. Neither of you spoke at first, but the silence was thick, pulsing with something electric, something inevitable.

Then his hand found your knee.

His touch was barely there, but you felt the weight of it hit you hard. A jolt of heat shot through you as he began rubbing small circles against you.

That was it.

Before you could stop yourself, you turned to him, capturing his mouth with yours in a kiss that sent him back against the seat.

He barely had a second to react before you were climbing into his lap, fingers diving into his hair. His hands shot to your waist, gripping hard. The feel of him beneath you again was dizzying, sending heat rushing straight to your core.

A low moan slipped from his throat as your weight settled over him. His fingers tightened, digging into your ass, pulling you flush against him. 

"This dress," he groaned against your lips. "God."

You smirked, lips brushing his as you teased, "You like it?"

His breath was ragged as he rasped, "So much."

You leaned in, dragging open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down the column of his throat. His skin was warm against your lips, his pulse wild beneath your touch. He shuddered when you reached the spot where his neck met his shoulder, grinning to yourself before biting down, just enough to make him gasp.

His grip on you tightened. His body tensed.

And then—

The car jerked to a stop, sending you both lurching forward.

You let out a quiet curse, quickly sliding off his lap as the driver cleared his throat from the front. 

Face burning, you smoothed down your dress, stealing a glance at Noel. He was still slumped back, breathing heavily, hair a mess, lips wet and parted.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes dark as they watched you.

Neither of you spoke as you stumbled out of the car and into your building, the silence thick with anticipation, charged with everything you hadn’t said.

Now, standing in the middle of your flat, the reality of the moment sank in. The mess you’d left behind suddenly felt glaring—clothes draped over chairs, an empty wine glass perched precariously on the coffee table.

But Noel didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

His eyes were on you. Watching. Taking you in.

Then they lifted, met yours, and held.

"Hi," you breathed, suddenly shy in a way that felt ridiculous after everything that had just happened.

"Hi," he murmured back.

And then he was on you again, pulling you into a slow, deliberate kiss. It was different from before. Less frantic, more controlled. Like he wanted to take his time.

You let him take the lead this time, curious to see where it would go.

He backed you against the wall, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek, while the other found its way to your waist. His grip was firm, grounding. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself as he deepened the kiss, tongue brushing over yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

He seemed much less overwhelmed this time. More sure of himself. And, god, it was sexy.

Not that the other version of him wasn’t, but you were beginning to understand why he had a reputation for this. 

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. "So… is this your move then?" you teased, though your voice was slightly uneven.

His lips ghosted over your jaw as he hummed, "What move would that be, love?"

You swallowed, heartbeat unsteady. "Oh, come on. You know. The one that drives all the girls mad with desire." You tried to sound mocking, but it barely landed.

He chuckled, low and knowing. "Depends." His thumb stroked idly along your cheek. "Do you feel mad with desire?"

Your pulse stuttered. You hated how good he was at this.

"I bet you’d just love for me to say yes, wouldn’t you?" you challenged.

"You will," he said, completely self-assured.

Then, he dipped his head, lips grazing over the curve of your neck.

You sucked in a sharp breath, body tensing as he found a particularly sensitive spot. He lingered there, lips warm, tongue darting out just slightly. Testing. Teasing.

You could feel his smirk against your skin.

And then he bit down. Not hard, but just enough. Enough to send a shock straight through you.

A strangled sound tore from your throat before you could stop it.

Noel pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes, a smug look settling on his face.

"Bastard," you muttered, though there was no real heat behind it.

He only grinned, unbothered, before moving to the other side of your neck, continuing his slow, torturous assault.

You pressed your lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another noise. But then, one particularly well-placed kiss just below your ear had a soft whine slipping out before you could stop it.

Noel pulled back again, eyes dark, lips wet.

"Feeling mad yet?"

You exhaled sharply, realization hitting you. This was payback. For last time. You were going to have to admit to something if this was going to continue. And god you wanted it to continue. 

"Absolutely barmy," you muttered, conceding just this once.

His smirk widened before his lips crashed onto yours again, this time with a heated urgency that made you lightheaded. Your hands roamed him, desperate to feel as much as you could.

You weren’t sure how this would end, but right now you didn’t care. You just wanted more.

You pulled him toward your bed, kicking off your shoes, heat pooling low in your stomach as he pressed his body flush against yours. His breath was heavy, lips brushing along your jaw as his hands skimmed down your sides.

He exhaled a quiet laugh. "I haven’t been able to stop thinking about touching you. You didn’t let me get a turn last time." 

Your stomach tightened, heat licking up your spine. You tilted your head, lips grazing the shell of his ear. "Then you’d better make the most of it, yeah?"

A low sound rumbled in his chest, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you back onto the mattress, covering you with his body. His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, his gaze dark and searching.

"You always such a tease?" His voice was low, almost accusing.

You smirked, fingers threading through his hair. "You always so easy?"

For a second, you let yourself soak in the weight of him, the heat rolling off his skin, the way his breathing had shifted. Then, with a slow grin, you flipped him onto his back and straddled his hips.

A surprised sound escaped him, low and unguarded. His hands instinctively found your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. The shift left only the thin barrier of your underwear between your aching core and the rough denim of his jeans. The friction sent a delicious shiver up your spine, your breath catching in your throat.

Noel shuddered beneath you. For a moment you wondered if he wasn’t comfortable with this dynamic again. But when you met his gaze, you searched his eyes for any hint. There was no sign of hesitation, no resistance—just raw, unfiltered desire. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat surging through you. 

You leaned down, pressing slow kisses along his jaw, trailing down his neck as your fingers worked open the buttons of his shirt. When it fell open, you let your nails drag lightly up his chest, reveling in the way his breath stuttered.

Then, unable to help yourself, you brushed a thumb over one of his nipples just to see what he’d do.

A strangled groan tore from his throat, his head tipping back against the pillows. The sound, deep and wrecked, sent a sharp pulse straight between your legs.

You were mesmerized. You needed to hear more. You moved to the other, teasing it with the same deliberate touch.

This time, the noise that left him was broken, raw, coming from somewhere deep inside him. The sound sent sharp heat twisting through you, your clit jumping at the noise. The need was possessing you, urging you to draw more out. 

You bent to kiss down his heaving chest. You couldn’t resist flicking your tongue over the hardened bud. This time his hand flew to your hair, and a breathless, high-pitched noise escaped him.

"Fuck—" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Please, I... I can't—"

"I know you can," you spoke against his skin, trailing your lips lower, down his stomach.

He shivered beneath you, body taut with tension. His breath came in uneven, shallow gasps, and you relished every single one.

You traced your fingers over the sensitive skin just above his belt, feeling him tense beneath you. Then, dazedly, you murmured against his stomach, "Do you let other people see you like this?"

His breath hitched. "Not often," he admitted, voice strained. "Doesn’t fit the image."

"Shame." You pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above his waistband. "You’re so pretty like this."

A weak laugh escaped him, breathless. "Pretty. That’s a new one."

You glanced up at him, your fingers toying with his belt. "But you are. And the noises you make are also so, so pretty."

He exhaled sharply, like your words had knocked the wind out of him.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," he muttered, voice wrecked, desperate.

You grinned, trailing your fingers lower. "Oh, I think I have some idea."

You pressed your palm against the bulge beneath his jeans, feeling him jolt beneath you.

You reached for his zipper, hands eager, impatient. The rasp of metal sounded loud in the quiet room as you shoved his jeans down, dragging them off with no pretense.

Then your eyes landed on him.

The thick strain against his boxers, the way a damp patch was spreading at the front. Your mouth went completely dry.

Noel was panting now, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. "Love, you need to—"

His words were cut off by a strangled moan the second your fingers traced over him, pressing just enough to make him twitch beneath your touch.

You exhaled sharply, warmth pooling low in your stomach. He was right there in front of you, already leaking through the fabric, the evidence of his need making you lightheaded. Your breath ghosted over him before you leaned in, brushing your lips over the damp spot.

Then, with a slow pull, you closed your mouth around it, sucking gently through the fabric.

Noel let out a ragged curse, his hips jerking up against you. "Fuck."

The desperation in his voice sent a fresh wave of arousal straight through you.

Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you dragged them down, drinking in the sight of him. The way his cock bobbed, standing heavy against his stomach, had something hot and primal unraveling inside you.

A small, unguarded whimper escaped him, his hands clenching into the sheets so tightly his knuckles went white.

You flicked your tongue over the bead of precum gathering at his tip, tasting the saltiness of him.

His entire body shuddered and a broken moan tore from his throat, raw and wrecked. He seemed to be struggling to form words, his lips parting, closing again, as if searching for something to say.

But he didn’t need to. You could see the silent pleading in his eyes.

And christ it undid you.

The heat coiling low in your stomach was nearing a breaking point, the relentless throb between your legs getting to be too much. You wanted to keep tasting him, wanted to hear more of those breathless, ruined sounds. But if you did, you knew he wasn’t going to last. And you needed him inside you.

Now.

Without a word, you spun, moving your hair over your shoulder. "Help me out."

His hands were shaking as he reached for you, dragging the zipper of your dress down in one slow, trembling motion, exposing every inch of you. His fingers traced along your spine, and goosebumps skittered across your skin in response.

You let the rest of the dress slip off, stepping out of your underwear in one fluid movement before turning back to him.

Noel’s gaze swept over you, his jaw tight, hands clenching into fists as if he were holding himself back.

Not for long.

You captured his mouth in a slow, deep kiss, guiding him back onto the bed, settling over him once again.

His hands grasped at your body, touch hot and desperate, sending wave after wave of need crashing through you. Your bodies were flush, nothing between you now, and the feeling of him hard against you sent a helpless moan tumbling from your lips.

You grasped him, positioning yourself over him, your breath coming in shallow, uneven pants.

"Can I?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Noel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips parted as he looked up at you, utterly wrecked. He nodded, unable to form a single word.

Slowly, you began to sink down onto him, gasping at the stretch, at the heat, the way he filled you completely. Your fingers dug into his chest as you took him inch by inch, your thighs shaking from how overwhelming it felt.

His hands shot to your hips, gripping you like a lifeline as a strangled moan tore from his throat.

You could feel him deep inside you as you finally seated yourself against him. You took a moment to adjust, shivering at the contact. The white-hot heat in your veins was everywhere.

"Fuck," he choked out, his voice breaking. His body trembled beneath you, every muscle tensed, struggling to hold on.

You glanced down at him, and his dark, desperate gaze met yours.

"Christ, you feel so incredible," he rasped, voice wrecked and rough. "Need you—fuck, I need—" His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you shifted slightly, searching for the right angle.

You settled a hand against his chest and rolled your hips experimentally. The reaction was immediate.

A guttural moan tore from his throat, his hands tightening on your hips, guiding you into a rhythm he clearly needed just as badly as you did.

Your body was drowning in sensation. Every nerve alight, every muscle quivering, every inch of you focused on where you were joined. You rocked against him, getting lost in the pleasure. 

You barely registered when he planted his heels into the mattress, bracing himself. But you felt it the second he used all his force to thrust up to meet you.

A sharp, helpless cry ripped from your lips.

The force of it would have knocked you off balance if he hadn’t been gripping you so tightly, keeping you flush against him as he snapped his hips upward again.

"Fuck—Noel." His name broke from your lips as another surge of pleasure hit you like a shockwave.

Each thrust sent lightning shooting down your spine, pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. You tried to meet him, to match his rhythm, but the way he was hitting so deep, so perfectly, made it nearly impossible to keep control.

You felt him everywhere. Filling you, consuming you. It was dizzying.

His grip on your hips tightened suddenly, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you down onto him harder, deeper. His own hips surged up to meet you with every thrust, dragging you into the frantic, unrelenting pace he so badly needed.

The sounds filling the room were obscene—skin meeting skin, ragged breaths, broken moans spilling from both of you.

Your mind had gone completely blank, overtaken by pleasure, your body running purely on instinct. The only thought was ‘Noel Noel Noel’. Your own moans were getting higher, more desperate, your broken off sounds of "No-el" between each thrust spilling out. 

"Fuck—" his breath came in ragged, labored gasps, his words shattered. "You feel—so fucking—good—don’t stop—"

Your thighs were trembling from exertion, but stopping wasn’t an option. Not when you were this close. Not when every nerve was buzzing, your entire body tightening around him, the telltale buildup coiling inside you like a live wire ready to snap.

"You’re so close, love," he groaned, his grip tightening. "I can feel it—I need you to—please—I can’t hold on much longer—"

His plea sent another wave of heat crashing through you, tipping you closer to the edge.

Desperate, you moved a hand between you, flicking his nipple again, watching as he arched into your touch with a helpless, ruined moan.

"Fuck—" His voice broke. His hips stuttered, losing rhythm. "You’re gonna make me—fuck—I can’t—"

Then one deep, perfectly-angled thrust sent you spiraling.

Pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body seizing as you cried out his name. Your walls clenched around him, dragging him over the edge with you.

A strangled moan ripped from his throat as he came, his hands gripping you so hard you were sure there would be bruises. His release flooded inside you in sharp, pulsing waves.

You collapsed against him, body giving out entirely. Every muscle felt spent, useless, like you’d been wrung dry. His chest rose and fell beneath you in quick, uneven bursts, both of you still gasping for air.

For a long, breathless moment, the only thing in the world was the two of you. Bodies tangled, limbs shaking, lungs fighting for air.

You figured you should get off him to allow him to fully breathe. You slid off and onto your stomach, melting into the mattress. You could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets, but you made no move to stop it. 

Then finally, finally, the world came back into focus.

Noel shifted onto his side as he caught his breath, his fingertips resting along your spine in slow, soothing strokes. The touch sent a shiver through you, but not from arousal this time. It was something softer, something more dangerous.

The intensity of what had just occurred was overwhelming, but unlike last time, you didn’t feel the need to run.

His voice broke the quiet, rough with exhaustion. "You alright?"

You forced yourself to lift your head, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes were heavy-lidded, searching yours.

"I think so," you murmured, still breathless.

His fingers brushed damp strands of hair back from your face, the gesture unexpectedly tender. "You’re shaking," he noted, voice softer now.

You blinked. You hadn’t even realized.

Something stirred inside you at his tone. It was unfamiliar—giddy, weightless. It felt like… affection. A small smile tugged at your lips before you even realized you were doing it.

"Yeah well that’s entirely your fault," you mumbled.

He huffed out a quiet laugh before tugging you closer. His fingers resumed their slow, steady circles, and the warmth of it seeped into you, easing some of the lingering tremors.

This kind of intimacy wasn’t something you were used to. Fucking him was one thing, but this… this was something else entirely. Something you weren’t sure you should allow. But you weren’t stopping him either.

If this was what the real Noel Gallagher was like then you were in trouble.

You laid there for a moment before a nagging thought entered your mind. "I’m sorry I left you in that field."

He stilled for half a second, body tensing before he relaxed again.

"I think I was scared," you admitted. "So I ran. I’m not even sure what I was scared of, really. But… I am sorry."

Noel exhaled through his nose, considering. "I get it," he said finally. "I’m sorry if I was being, uh… too much."

You let out a quiet laugh. "No, I liked it," you confessed, cheeks heating. "I think that’s what scared me. Everything changed so fast, and I wasn’t ready for it."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were warm. "Well I’ve been known to overwhelm people with emotions."

You nudged him playfully, laughing.

"Don’t deny it, love," he teased, his voice dipping into that cocky lilt again. "You know you can’t resist me. I’m magnetic."

"Don’t you start with that again," you warned, pushing up onto your elbows.

He let out a low chuckle, but his gaze flickered down, roaming over your body now that you weren’t caught up in the haze of lust. His expression shifted, less teasing, more appreciative.

"Oh, but it’s true," he replied, his tone cheeky and playful. "You’re completely captivated by me."

You pursed your lips, fighting back a smile. "That’s yet to be proven."

"Is that so?" he murmured. He closed the space between you with a soft kiss. "I think I’m more than capable of proving it to you."

Then, in one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, drawing a startled laugh from your throat. He grinned against your skin, pressing playful kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your neck.

"See?" he said, punctuating his words with another kiss. "Captivated."

You laughed breathlessly, fingers tangling in his hair.

You were starting to think he might be right.

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

I know this is another Noel post but I pinky promise that I have concepts of a plan for a Liam post coming next. 

[sanni276]

fic idea (batfam + timkon):

Bruce Wayne is not Batman. In fact, "Batman" doesn't even exist. There are plenty universes that have a Batman, but not this one (or does it?). Of course Bruce considered becoming a vigilante but in the end he scratched that idea and instead decided to help Gotham through other means like for example lots of charity.

Since Bruce never became Batman, the Batfam never formed. Bruce didn't took litte Dick Grayson that just saw his parents fall in as a ward. Bruce didn't adopt Jason Todd because he never tried to steal the tires of the Batmobile. How would he after all, if the the Batmobile never existed in the first place? Similarly to that he never had a reason to meet what in another life perhaps could have been his children. There is a very important thing this brings with it: if Batman isn't a vigilante, so neither are his (should have been) children.

Except one of them.

When Tim Drake was about 9 years old he found an old camera in his attic. After a while he gets bored of photographing his backyard and decides he wants to see something more exciting, which is why he sneaks out at night. In another life he accidentily saw a certain duo of superheroes and became obsessed with them but this is not this life and there are no superheroes in Gotham. Tim witnesses the horrors and cruelty Gotham offers that night and since he is one of the rare people in Gotham that actually have enough money and available ressources, he decides that he has the responsibility to do something against them.

At first he only plans to support Gotham with charity like his neighbour and maybe occasionally send the police tips for cases through his photos but he keeps having this weird dreams that feel weirdly like memories that push him into wanting to do more.

When Tim is almost 11 years old he decides that he needs to become a vigilante.

The first thing he does is look for a martial arts teacher. This somehow leads to him meeting Lady Shiva which later takes him with her to the League of assassins where he trains for a few years.

During his training period he meets Cass and Damian (do not ask me how he exists, he just does). All three of them sometimes have this odd feeling of deja vu when their together but none of them mentions it out loud and so it remains a mystery.

Eventually Tim has to leave the Loa and return to Gotham but not without taking Damian and Cass with him. Cassandra decides that she wants to explore the world to find out who she wants to be and leaves with a promise of returning in a few years. Tim finds out that Bruce is Damian's biological father and drops him of at his doorstep (he obviously gives Damian the means to contact him in emergencies).

Tim, now 13 or 14, finally has everything he needs and starts building his on mainly information (that he gets through a truly impressive spy-system and hacking) based empire and tries to use it to help as many people as possible.

Somewhere during that building process he meets Jason (a small time criminal that is mainly concentrated on theft, which Tim eventually hires as his personal chef and becomes a good friend of Tim (Tim will never admit to himself that the first time he looked at Jason's profile for a case his first thought was "brother?")). Tim also gets to know Dick (maybe he's an Olympi athlete or a police officer or maybe just a very broke gymnastics instructor), Barbara (a local librarian that actually taught him a lot of his hacking skills) and Duke (their friends? maybe there was a competition between their schools where they met?).

Now that we understand this world they all live in abit better let's get to the actual main plot of the fic:

One day, 17-year-old Tim is walking down the street during his lunch break (Tim's parents died when he was 15 so he had to become the CEO of Drake Industries), when he sees a guy about his age do something extremely stupid and Tim thinks "What an idiot". Suddenly the guy looks up and their eyes meet and Tim realises "Wait! That's my idiot!". All off these memories suddenly appear in his head of another life where he was a huge Batman fan and he was Robin and his best friend was the guy he was still staring at. Conner Kent, Superboy, Kon.

Kon also regains all of his memories in that moment which causes them to reconnect / reunite.

Tim, with the sudden knowledge of his past life, obviously wants his family back and the first step to accomplish that is finding out if they can remember their past life too.

All in all imagine this:

A fic where Tim is doing his best to have all the people he loves close to him again while simultaneously keeping a company alive and handling all the struggles being a teenage vigilante brings. There is of course also the little problem that is seeing what used to be his adoptive father at galas and wanting to do nothing more than throwing himself into his arms and getting his Dad back but Bruce doesn't even know who he is at this point. All of this interrupted by sweet Timkon fluff since at first they are the only ones that remember that their reality used to be very different and at some point of all of this they fall in love (or maybe they where from the start?).

[talonabraxas]

Fomalhaut – Watcher of the South Talon Abraxas New Moon in Pisces

With the arrival of the New Moon in Pisces, we embrace an energy that encourages us to open our hearts, sparking a profound desire for love and connection. Pisces creates a captivating and enchanting ambiance, paving the way for a month focused on transforming relationships.

This evening’s Pisces New Moon marks the conclusion of the lunar cycle for the astrological year and signals our official arrival into Eclipse Season. This February New Moon promises to be a significant event, ushering in a portal to one of the year’s most transformative moments.

A new chapter of reality is upon us, and this New Moon is the key to unlocking it. Let’s explore in detail what lies ahead… Pisces New Moon: A Portal for Deep Healing, Intuitive Downloads & Limitless Dreaming

The New Moon in Pisces brings a heightened sensitivity, leaving us feeling scattered, deeply emotional, and open to the surrounding energies.

Deep-seated emotions can surface, leaving us feeling inundated and overwhelmed. Although this may be challenging, confronting our emotions can lead to a profound sense of closure, along with enhanced understanding and awareness.

As the last sign of the zodiac, Pisces embodies a unique gift that it brings to the table. This insight allows us to identify the critical juncture and potentially the irreversible moment. Arriving at this destination offers a profound sense of insight and understanding. It’s akin to turning the final pages of a novel, where the depth of the character’s journey becomes clear and the resolution unfolds before you. New Moon Positioned at 9 Degrees in Pisces

Tonight, the New Moon takes place at 9 degrees of Pisces, a sign linked to achievement and expertise. This degree embodies the essence of our ability to excel in our passions and let our true brilliance illuminate the world. This degree encourages us to embrace our true selves and have faith in the inherent wisdom that resides within us.

What is your greatest strength? What unique abilities and skills do you possess? Pause to acknowledge your talents and everything you’ve achieved. Recognize the unique gifts and talents you possess—don’t dismiss them as nonexistent!

Each of us possesses unique talents that come naturally to us. Cast aside societal expectations and limitations, and explore further. Taking time to reflect on these can effectively inspire intentional action during the New Moon. New Moon in Pisces & Jupiter

2025 Pisces New Moon is aligning with Jupiter, the planet known for its themes of abundance and growth. Jupiter is frequently viewed as a force for good, as it not only amplifies aspects of our lives but also helps us recognize the silver linings more effortlessly.

The challenges you encounter during this New Moon might seem amplified, all due to Jupiter’s influence. Remember to seek out the positive and concentrate on the silver linings; you will undoubtedly discover them!

As Jupiter travels through Gemini, the realm of communication, we can expect significant conversations or vital information to emerge during the New Moon phase. Remember, the essence of Pisces will enhance our intuitive skills, so trust your instincts even though some things may seem amplified.

Jupiter’s influence could broaden our perspective, offering fresh insights and elevating our awareness in profound ways.

As the Eclipses approach, it appears that the information we gather might only reveal a fragment of the complete narrative. As we approach the concluding chapters, it seems we’ll need to hold on until the end of April, when Eclipse Season wraps up, to uncover the entire story. New Moon in Pisces: Your Portal to Eclipse Season

From this New Moon through the conclusion of Eclipse Season on April 27th, we enter a realm of profound transformation, healing, and change. By the end of April, we may all find ourselves navigating a remarkably different reality, thanks to the powerful cosmic energies at play.

Although this may seem a bit overwhelming, we can harness the energies of the Pisces New Moon and the uplifting vibrations of Jupiter to establish intentions for a more radiant future.

Consider what you desire to grow or invite into your life. Consider what you aim to achieve at your destination. Take a moment to consider these facets of your life and jot down what you hope to attract in the coming months.

Consider exploring strategies to nurture and support yourself as we navigate the weeks ahead.

As we return to the energy of 9 degrees of Pisces, what is it that you excel at?

In what areas do your talents shine the brightest? Happy New Moon!!!

[honestlyanowl]

Okkk

So um yandere reader with prison Vi👀👀

I jsut think it would be really funny, like you are an enforcer who works at Stillwater and you get really protective of Vi and are really nice to her even when she does stupid shit with other prisoners. Suddenly this bratty Kiramman girl comes along and steals Vi away... can't be having that now can we?

- 💜

Ohh my god 🙏 (REQUESTS OPEN)

Content: Headcannon/blurb? - yandere, implied murder, suggestive themes,

𖹭 As an enforcer your relationship with Vi always had to be "strict"— small conversations through the cell bars were about as good as it got. 𖹭 You supposed it wasn't really a relationship, but you had a gut feeling; the way her eyelids dropped almost seductively, the subtle shift in her posture whenever you'd walk past her cell, or maybe the way she promised you meant the world to her... and that if you just let her out, she'd be all yours. 𖹭 Foolishly you declined, she'd been begging to see her sister almost her entire stay here, or at least that's what you'd been informed, she promised to love everyone here at this point, though, a selfish part of you liked to believe she meant it. 𖹭 You defended her pretty fights with other inmates, patched up her cuts, and cleaned over her bruises. 𖹭 Christ, she'd even call for you sometimes, just to talk.. it was almost endearing how close the two of you were, despite the circumstances. 𖹭 And before you could even start to rethink her offer, that... Kiramman girl took her from you, and Vi simply slipped out of your hands. 𖹭 You'd see her occasionally, whether it was wandering the streets of Zaun, or even stopping by drug stores for cheap tattoos. 𖹭 And she always had that- blue-haired bitch with her too, it was infuriating! You spent all that time building a bond, a relationship, and she just- took her? you couldn't take it, you wouldn't take it. 𖹭 Your heart ached every time you saw the two in public, it wasn't fair! All you could feel was this nagging urge to confront Caitlyn, tear her into two whilst making sure it was known who Vi belonged to. 𖹭 But you can't resist for long. 𖹭 The girl's disappearance was quickly spread, she was "Piltover's finest" after all, she couldn't just go missing... 𖹭 The money you'd be paid for "finding her" was a rather large deal, but you easily decided that keeping her securely locked up in your attic was more suiting. 𖹭 Despite Vi's initial reaction, pitifully trying to defend herself and Caitlyn, throwing those useless punches you'd practically memorized by now— you managed to convince her with the promise of seeing her sister. 𖹭 And after that she even helped clean up the blood that had slowly stained into the walls, tear off missing posters, and if you persuaded her enough... even dig a hole or two!

i hope this did the idea justice!

[swtt4hk]

Time Machine || Cho Sangwoo

And I'll love you forever with the fire in my soul

Maybe I could be your girl

And we don't ever say goodbye

Maybe in another life

he is gone. Everyone is gone. Gi hun , Sae byeok , Ali and most important of all , your husband , Cho Sangwoo. You won the games but at what cost? You lost the love of your life just because he sacrificed himself for you. The problem is that you don’t need the money. You just need him. If only you had realised that something was going on earlier.

Flashback

it was a random evening and you were doing the chores in the house while waiting for your husband , Sangwoo , to come from work. You were kinda worried about him tho , he had been acting…different but not so different. He just seemed like he was always thinking about something, like something was bothering him but you never asked him about it because you knew that if he wanted , he would tell you. But that day you had decided to finally ask him about it , you couldn’t take it anymore.

you heard the door opening and walked up to him. His expression was tired but still forced a smile.

—hi babe , how was work?

—hi , sweetheart , it was…okay.

—just okay? Are you sure that nothing bad has happened?

—no , babe , everything’s alright.

he told you with a reassuring smile as he hangs his coat on the hanger and suddenly a card fell from his pocket. You grabbed it. It was a brown(ish) card with a triangle , a circle and a square on the front and a phone number on the back.

—babe , what is this?

Sang-woo saw that you’re holding the card and quickly grabbed it.

—oh nothing , a random salesman gave it to me just to promote his products!

he said , trying to hide the fear that you might push it further. The truth was that it wasn’t just a card. He had been slapped by a salesman a hundred times to win the game of ddakji to get 10k₩. When he won , the salesman told him to call the number on the back of the card , if he wants to play more games like this to win money.

—if you say so…come on , I’ve made you dinner , let’s go sit down.

he let out a silent sigh of relief , as you didn’t push him any further , and he sits on the table with you. As you’re both eating silently, you decided to talk to him about his behaviour for the past month.

—honey , can I talk to you about something?

Sang-woo looked up to you and nodded.

—so um…I’ve noticed something in the past month and tell me if I’m wrong but…you have been acting kind of different lately. Is something bothering you? You always seem like you’re thinking about something and your anger issues have gotten a little out of hand even though you had been making progress…are you okay?

Sang-woo stops eating. He sets his fork down and takes a deep breath , looking deep into your eyes. He doesn’t know what to do. Should he tell you the truth that he’s in debt and that he can’t even afford buying the essentials or should he keep lying to you so you don’t get worried about it?

—I’m okay. It’s just…there’s a lot of pressure at work , that’s it. I’m sorry if I made you worried , my love , I promise I’m gonna make it up to you soon , hm?

He said reassuringly. He didn’t have much of a choice but lying to you seemed the best thing to do at the time. You let out a warm smile and nod.

—alright then , I’m sorry for asking you in the first place , I know how much of a stress your job can be…now eat! Your food is gonna get cold!

he nods and finishes his food. The hours pass slowly and the sun sets , which means it’s time for you both to go to bed. You kissed each other good night and you fell asleep. But Sangwoo couldn’t. His thoughts were keeping him up. He grabbed the card from his coat’s pocket and looked at it. Should he call the number and join the games? Leaving for some days to make some more money wouldn’t hurt , right. He called the number and he gave the information needed. He was told that he had to be in a specific location at 11:30.

11:00. He had half an hour left. He got up , got dressed and wrote you a letter before leaving. Unfortunately, for him , you heard him leaving. You woke up and saw a letter on his pillow.

“Goodmorning, my love , someone from work called in the middle of the night because I have to go on a an emergency business trip. I’m so sorry about that but I promise , I’ll be back in a few days.❤️”

Bullshit. Yes , you didn’t know much about his job but you weren’t THAT dumb to believe that someone would call him to go on a business trip IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. So you decided to follow him.

11:30. Just in time. You secretly followed behind him and a black van arrived. A man was in it and asked for a code. Red light , Green light. Sangwoo got in and the van left. You followed the van to the next stop and you decided to go into the van too. You told the man the code and got into the car. You didn’t know what that was but you wanted to find out.

End of Flashback

you got thrown on a random street , the cold breeze hitting your face after days of being closed into whatever that building was. After hours of walking , you finally arrived home. But it was different this time. You were alone. Forever. Because you had basically killed your husband. You sit on the sofa in silence , getting flashbacks from all the happy times you and Sangwoo spend and even the times you spent together in the games. He is everything to you. But now he’s gone.

You lay down on the sofa and look up to the ceiling. You feel tired but you can’t sleep. Not after everything that happened. Tears start rolling down your cheeks as you’re processing everything that happened the past five days.

—I wish I could go back in time. I wish I would’ve noticed. I wish I would’ve helped him.

you manage to mutter while crying and you slowly drift off to sleep.

…

you slowly open your eyes as the morning sun hits your face and you take a look at your surroundings. That’s strange. Is that your…old room? How could it be possible? You sold that house about two years ago…you open your phone and…

June 14 2019. This can’t be possible. This is the exact same day that you met Sangwoo…how can it be? You start panicking , lightly slapping yourself to check if you’re dreaming. No. This is real. It’s 2019 and none of the nightmare you went through has happened. Did fate give you a second chance to fix everything?

You get up and walk around the house. You can’t lie , you’ve missed this place. The silence , the girly decorations, the room that is filled with so many memories…but now it’s not the time to remember the past. You’ve got to find Sangwoo. You try to recall the time and the place he was in that day. “Come onnn , where was it? I know it was a café but which one?” Since you can’t seem to remember it , you decide to take a walk in your neighbourhood. You haven’t walked in these streets for so long…after a few minutes , you find it. “Espresso Emporium”.

You take a deep breath before stepping into the café and there he is…Cho Sangwoo. You’re about to walk towards him to greet him but then you remember. He’s supposed to be a total stranger to you. You sigh and sit on a table near him. At some point you make an eye contact and you both can feel it. It’s like love at first sight. That’s exactly how you fell in love six years ago. Just when you’re a out to give him a kind smile he quickly looks away , pretending that nothing happened. “Classic Sangwoo” you think.

Of course , the history repeats itself. You keep bumping into him during the day but neither of you talk to each other. Until one night you see him standing outside the convenience store , looking money in his pockets. He forgot his wallet and now he can’t buy any cigarettes. You chuckle to yourself and you walk up to him and offer him a cigarette.

—there. You say coldly , trying to hide your excitement about talking to him again. He looks at the cigarette for a second before taking it into his hands and lighting it up.

—thank you , you didn’t have to. He says , keeping a neutral demeanour. There follows silence but the comfortable kind of silence before you speak up.

—having a hard night? He sighs , throws his cigarette on the ground and stomps it with his foot. He scans you , head to toe , before answering to your question.

—yeah…how’d you tell?

—I’m a psychologist. I know what people think by just looking at them.

He looks at you , with a kind of weird look and nods.

—cool.

You know he’s not really the kind of person to start a conversation and meet with a total stranger but you HAVE to meet him.

—my name’s y/n. What’s yours?

Sangwoo looks away , with a kind of annoyed look.

—does it matter?

—I mean…if you don’t wanna meet me that’s okay , you’ll just miss out on meeting a wonderful woman.

You say teasingly and nudge him on the shoulder. He wants to smile but he doesn’t. He keeps it back. He doesn’t want to seem weak , especially to a woman , and you respect that.

—I’m Sangwoo…happy now?

—of course I am. Nice to meet you , Sangwoo.

…

Fast forward to some days later , you start getting closer with him , as if you don’t already know everything about him but this time you’re being more careful. You look closely to his face expressions and his movements. He doesn’t seem like he’s in debt…yet. Does this mean he lost it all when he got married to you? Yes.

One day , as you’re chatting , your conversation gets deep and he reveals some of his problems.

—I have been having some trouble with money lately…I’m on the verge of getting into debt…

well this is new. He had never told you that before. The Sangwoo you knew would have never complained about money , which hurts you because now you realise how many secrets he had been keeping from you all those years you had been married. You look at him with a soft gaze and with a look of sympathy.

—whatever , that’s my problem , you probably don’t even care.

—what? No , I do care , you’re my friend and friends listen to each other’s problems.

For a moment , you catch him blushing but then he looks away. “Ah I’ve missed that cute blush” you think to yourself. He takes a deep breath before he continues talking about his problems. And he has a lot. His business is going downhill, he’s on the verge of getting in debt , as he said before , and he’s been living in a motel. “So that’s why he never wanted to go to his place before we moved in together…”

…

Weeks pass and everyday you learn something new about Sangwoo. It’s like you met a completely different person but at the same time you get deja vu from his words , movements and the places you meet at. One day , as you’re doing some chores in the house , you hear a knock. You open the door and there he is again…

—Sangwoo! How come you came here unannounced? You usually warn before coming. You say but not in a strict tone , it’s just surprising because he usually does warn before coming over. He gets in and sits on the couch.

—I’m so sorry , y/n but I need to talk to you about something.

You sit beside him , curious about what you’re about to hear.

—what’s up?

He takes a deep breath , he bounces his leg up and down in nervousness and looks down.

—I…I got into debt…

you stare at him in shock. So he had been into debt even before you started dating?! And he still payed for everything you wanted?!

—what wait? When did that happen?

—…long ago…

—how long ago?

—f-five months ago…

—wait a minute…b-but didn’t you tell me that you were on the verge of getting into debt? Did you lie to me?

He sighs and closes his eyes.

—I’m sorry I-

—just tell me how much you owe.

there’s no response, which means you’re about to hear a big number.

—six…

—six hundred?

—…billion.

—six billion?! How did you even- you’re about to scold him but you know that if anger gets the best of you , you’ll definitely say about the time travelling thing and how you’re mad at him for not telling you anything…well…that is quite a lot but…we’ll find a way to fix it together , okay?

He blushes again , but hides it. You know that he likes you but you can’t get to like him. Not after the disappointment you’ve felt for him. Not because he’s in debt but because he was in debt and he never told you anything and that he joined those stupid games to make money even though he knew that you could make the amount of money he needed in a short amount of time. But he always insisted in paying.

Sangwoo feels a pang of embarrassment after telling you all that. Under other circumstances, he wouldn’t have told you but he felt the need of telling someone and the only person he could tell was you.

—y/n , I don’t need your help. I just…wanted to tell someone about my problem.

you stay silent. You want to protest , scream at him about why he is telling his problem to you and not expect you to help him. But you don’t say anything. You know it’s pointless.

…

The next days pass in silence. Ever since Sangwoo told you about him owing that much money , he feels so embarrassed that he stopped talking to you. You know damn well why Sangwoo doesn’t contact you and you totally get it. 6 billion is not little. But besides from him not wanting you to help , you work your ass off to make extra money. Psychologists do get payed a lot , so you already had a lot of money , so working some extra hours and a second job would totally pay off Sangwoo’s debts and more.

After weeks of working , it’s finally over. 6 billion won into your bank account. With no hesitation, you take the money and put them into a big bag to give them to Sangwoo. But you don’t wanna see him. You can’t look at him and not feel things for him. But if you fall in love again , he will make the same stupid mistake. Waste all his money on you.

Sangwoo hears an unexpected knock on his door. He opens it and he sees a bag with money in it. Even though it doesn’t have a letter with a name on it , he knows who gave him the money. The only person who knew…you. He quickly runs out of his apartment to find you. He knows you’re near.

As you’re quickly walking out of the motel Sangwoo is staying in , you hear a familiar voice —almost— behind you.

—y/n!!! Wait!!

your pace quickens and you disappear into the darkness of the night. It’s too late now. You just saved Sangwoo’s life and he didn’t even get to thank you.

Sangwoo stands still as tears run down his cheeks. The person he loves the most had run away and disappeared. He didn’t even get to express his feelings for you. He wishes he had done it earlier.

As you are walking , you stop at a quiet street and you start crying. You can’t believe what you just did. You left the person you love the most. But it is for the best. You can’t let him do the same mistake again. And you can’t let him die again.

…

after all of that , you decided to move away and start a new life , rearrange your fate. You try to forget about Sangwoo and move on with your life. “It was all for the best” you keep repeating to yourself everytime you think about it.

there was nothing left to do for Sangwoo. He had to accept his fate. It was like you vanished of the earth without warning and he keeps trying to understand why. But he tries his best to move on with his life , he pays off his debts with the money and he gets back on his feet again. He feels grateful that he met you , even though it was just for a few months. You saved his life after all.

It was all for the best.

———————————————————————

I enjoyed writing this one a lot BUT I’M SORRY IF IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE IN THE END , I WAS HALF ASLEEP WHILE WRITING THIS 😭

Anyway , more fics coming soon!

taglist: @sensationallysangwoo @chosangwooswife @nanamiscsleeve @snowgirl12 @vkeyy @lfegoeson

[nerdieforpedro]

Not made of Glass

Part Seven of A Safe Place for Us Series

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: Decisions about where to live are made and Dieter starts the “daddy” jokes. Sort of. The pair discuss states of health.

Warnings: Domestic conversations, various dirty talk (utter filth - I’m only 20% sorry), talk of children, talk of health conditions and disparities, feelings, unprotected p in v, aftercare

Word Count: about 2.1k

Notes: The daddy and momma thing won’t be that much of a thing. I tried it, it was funny but won’t be a recurring joke. I promise though I do think if Dieter did stick to it, he would be insufferable 😩 The horror.

Main Masterlist/ Dieter Bravo Masterlist/ AO3 Link

A small bodega serves coffee, bagels, sandwiches and assording baked goods based on the day of the week. It’s near a top floor condo that Dieter and Aisha are looking at today. It’s two days after finding out the life changing news, the expectant parents are still looking at different places on Aisha’s insistence. She made sure that the OBGYN she saw sent her tests and information to her home doctor, though she was considering moving here. The writer is curious about living in New York most of the time and being in Los Angeles when needed. She enjoys the thought of just taking the subway to a broadway show or the museum. Dieter is already talking about a house outside of the city, something he hasn’t mentioned before. The realtor is as confused as Aisha is but they both look through some listings until Dieter says it was the one he dreamed about. The home in question is a brick with a white roof and a yellow mailbox out front.

“It’s cute but it’s not in the city.” That’s Aisha’s response but Bravo convinces her to sleep on it and that they can talk about it tomorrow. The small meal consisting and sandwiches, water, tea and two pieces of chocolate cake makes her want this condo more.

Even when they get back to the hotel and attempt to relax, she still thinks about the high ceilings that would be excellent for natural light, working on some drafts and maybe watching Dee paint. That night, despite knowing that she’s only two or three months along at best, Dieter insists on laying his head on her belly. It’s in a series of moments that he never thought would come to pass. Humming ‘twinkle twinkle little star,’ he hears laughter that he’s become accustomed to hearing much more often.

“I liked the place near the little bodega. You could paint there and I can watch while I write. Plus I don’t know about maintaining a yard Dee.” Aisha’s fingertips massage his scalp while he lets a a short purr inturrpting his song. “We’ll go see this brick house though, it might be too much room.”

“Not too much room if we decide to have more children. Plus there will need to be room for Cookie.” He looks up and she knows he’s referring to his goat but he treats the pet like any dog or cat. Giggling, Aisha nods until she fully processes what he’s said, ‘more children.’ It was written in the contract they both signed. She’d never pictured herself with more than one. It led to her next question,

“Dieter how many children do you want to have? You know I’m-“ Bravo slides up the bed, shirtless and in his favorite Hugo Boss boxer briefs.

“I know, and it’s your fault. Now I’m a father and think about giving our current bun other future buns to play with.” The scruff of his patchy beard tickles her neck and then cheek as he peppers her neck and chest with kisses. “Now I get to call you sexy mama.”

“Dieter you’re so goofy.” Aisha’s hands runs along Dieter’s soft sides, feeling his warm skin. “I don’t hate you calling me mama though. I’m not sure if I’ll get used to calling you daddy. It feels like a weird fanfic prompt.” She releases a moan as Dieter moves between her legs and grinds his hips into hers.

“Let me hear it. Say, ‘give it to me daddy.’ Just for me.” He grins while he watches’s her eyebrows furrow from lifting her hips off the bed. His next line is cooed into her ear, “Tell me that you want daddy to fuck you sexy mama. Feel how wet your for me with my baby inside of you.” Dieter reaches down to slip out of his boxers and then raises the hem of Aisha’s nightgown. He catches her scent and when he runs the head of his cock along her folds, she’s already soaked. “I’ll keep the mother of my child wet, stuffed and happy. It’s what daddy’s supposed to do, aren’t I?” Aisha’s response isn’t with words, she reached down and guides the head of Dieter’s cock to her entrance and slides him in.

“You’re right Dee. That is daddy’s job. Give me daddy’s thick dick so mama can milk it since I want my walls painted.” Bravo doesn’t move his hips yet, he lets Aisha keep griding upward.

“Fuck baby…so damn good. Definitely at least one more kid after this one. I won’t be able to stay out of this pussy.” He interlocks his hands with hers and gives slow shallow thrusts. There’s no call times, no early appointments, just the two of them in their hotel room enjoying each other’s bodies. There’s no rush at all. “You only want the one or you open to more Aisha?” He presses his chest to hers, not set on forcing her into the mattress yet. Her eyes flutter and she looks up at him. Dieter’s watching her like he always does whenever they have sex, though recently there had been more slow sessions like this. Making love - that much Aisha is sure of.

“I’m open to having another one, but let’s see how this one goes. I’m not even past the first trimester. W-Wait, there Dee…again!” She widens her legs to allow him deeper, he’d found that extra sensitive spot within her fleshy canal and was hitting it with each slow stroke. She knew he wouldn’t go any faster, not right now. Bravo smirks a hits again twice before purposefully changing the angle to miss it and hear her hiss. He kisses her lips and ensure to hit it again to have her whine into his mouth.

“That’s fair Ai, and I think despite it being outside the city, you’ll like those house. We’ll have room to grow into it.” The smirk remains on his face as he waiting her out, he wants her to ask him to speed up, be rougher. It’s a game he may have started a few weeks ago. Dieter notes that Aisha is trying to release his hands and putting her feet flat into the matress to have him go deeper with his cock.

“You enjoy making me ask. It’s mean, but fine. I want it harder Dee. You’re supposed to be keeping mama satisfied aren’t you daddy?” The giggle is from this wordplay he started, it isn’t bad just weird as he releases her hands and wraps the around the back of his neck.

“Of course sexy mama. Your wish is my command.” Dieter winks as he takes a handful each of her ample hips beginning to piston into her, now with his goal of dipping her into the mattress. Her previous soft moans were replaced by deep groans and his grunts. They both climaxed quickly from their slow buildup and after washing up afterward laid in bed naked, facing each other under the blankets.

“Think we can put a pause on the mama and daddy thing? I gotta get used to that. It was weird.” Aisha admits and Dieter agrees. She snuggles up next to him and he wraps his arms around her.

“I didn’t think you’d play into it so hard.”

“I’m just glad you weren’t too serious about it.”

“You know what I am serious about though?” Aisha looks up as Dieter draws some circles into her back. She tilts her head and hums waiting for an answer.

“Because you’re worried about how this pregnancy can go and I’m worried about you, no matter where we live, we’re having a certified midwife checking in on you in addition to your follow up appointments. It’s non-negotiable.” It’s a stipulation that Dieter had mentioned before as well. It isn’t that Aisha didn’t appreciate it, she did immensely. That he cared about her being healthy along with the baby, but to be watched in her own home. Well soon to be their home, it would be a bit much for her.

“They’ll come for visits right? It won’t be like a live in nurse, someone watching me 24/7 is too much Dee.” Aisha attempts to get up and out of the bed to wash up but Dieter quickly rises with her and sits on the bed next to her.

“You know it’s not just because I have the money to do so right? It’s not a flex or something Aisha. We’re both older, and even though I know you have a clean bill of health and so do I, so many things can go wrong. It’s dangerous.” Aisha stands and walks to the bathroom and begins to wash up with Bravo nearly on her heels. “Are you listening to me?”

“I hear you dammit!” Her yell has her looking at Dieter surprised, both at him and herself. She didn’t expect to get so worked up over it. More than anyone, Aisha knows due to her research and appointments how dangerous pregnancy can be for any woman, let alone, a black woman and her first pregnancy is at age 35. It’s what she was cautioned against even though the only unhealthy thing about her was her weight. No other lifestyle risk factors. She finishes washing and cleans her hands before leaning against the counter, she can’t look at Dieter’s face in the mirror, he looks hurt.

“I didn’t mean to yell Dee. I know that despite everything, my age and race puts me in the high risk category. I just….” She pulls him close and lays her head on his chest. “Just want to enjoy the pregnancy. It might be my only one, we don’t know. So just stay in the moment with me okay? I know there’s things we need to watch out for and I do love that you’re being this protective of me.” She kisses his chest before rubbing his back, more to soothed herself than him while he cups the back of her head. “Please let’s just enjoy it.”

“Okay. I’ll still worry though. I want to have you and the kid you know?” Dieter kisses her forehead and they lay back down in bed to sleep for the night. Aisha is awake long after Dieter’s called asleep still holding her, he’d brought up fears that she was hoping she’d buried. They’re still creeping in the edge of her mind when the drive out to the brick house Dieter had found.

It’s large, six bedrooms and five and a half bathrooms with a large room downstairs with plenty of light that Aisha says would make a good mini-atelier for Dieter to paint in. She found herself an office next to the master bedroom which is the size of her current apartment. Dieter describes making it a comfy place for her to sleep and nest. He read about nesting online and figured it might be fun for Aisha to try in a few months. She laughs and shakes her head but between the beautiful yard with landscaping and a small garden she can try and not kill plants in and it being in a gated community with the neighbors spread out but not too far away. She agrees to buy the house, with Dieter putting both their names on it.

Driving back into the city and eating at a small outdoor cafe, Aisha asks something else that’s been on her mind, after Dieter settles next to her at the small table. He brought a shawl despite her already wearing a thick red sweater with her navy skirt and red converses. She wanted to wear them while she still could. Dieter is comfy in one of his rainbow sweaters, purple lakers shirts and jeans. He kisses her cheek while they’re handed menus. “Um, how should we tell our families the news? There’s a lot.” Bravo laughs and so does Aisha knowing it’s going to be an entire mess to sort after being seen out in the open like this.

“We’ll tell them together and one piece at a time.” Is Dieter’s answer after they order the soup of the day: French Onion with extra cheese and plenty of bread to dip.

Their joy makes for a beautiful picture that pops up all over social media and the news. The headline: Oscar Winner Dieter Bravo and his longtime friend writer Aisha Smith seen out and about in New York? Are the rumors true? Have they crossed the line between friends?

It seems neither of them has to break the initial news to their families, the world did that. Dieter and Aisha only had to answer the specifics of to what extend had their relationship changed, which they agree would be done when they were comfortable with doing so.

Part Six Part Eight

Tagged peeps: @readingiskeepingmegoing @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @pedrostories @littlemisspascal @baronessvonglitter @nathanbatemanfucker

[john-laurens]

Patriot Mother vs. Loyalist Son: Anne Kinloch's Attempts to Change Francis Kinloch's Political Beliefs

Francis Kinloch's transition from a loyalist receiving an education in England to a (reluctant) patriot fighting in the American military is one that has long intrigued me. In this post, I'll explore how Francis's relationship with his mother contributed to his change of heart. As a preview of the information contained below, please enjoy this (questionably historically accurate) meme:

For those interested in the John Laurens-Francis Kinloch relationship, it is well known that Francis Kinloch was a loyalist at the outset of the American Revolutionary War, much to the detriment of his personal relationships. His loyalist beliefs and preference for a monarchy are conveyed in his letters to John, particularly when they engaged in their political debate throughout the year 1776 (the letters can be found here). Francis's political views may have in part been due to the fact that he was placed under the guardianship of Thomas Boone, a staunch loyalist, after his father's death. Under Boone's direction, Francis was educated in England during 1768-1774 and again during 1777-1778. Despite this, Francis would return to the colonies in 1778 and fight on the American side. This post will address but one of the various factors that contributed to this decision.

Francis's loyalist views were not shared by others in his family. His mother Anne Cleland Kinloch and sister Mary Esther Kinloch Huger remained in South Carolina and supported the patriot cause. Being located in the colonies for the entirety of the war, the two certainly had a much greater exposure to the ongoing conflict. While Francis was abroad, Mary Esther married Major Benjamin Huger, who served in the 5th South Carolina Regiment. Mary Esther unfortunately lost her husband to the war, as Benjamin was killed in a friendly fire incident in Charleston in 1779.

Anne and Francis exchanged letters while Francis was in Europe, and Francis must have made his loyalist beliefs apparent to his mother. A recurring theme in their correspondence is Anne encouraging her son to rethink his views and to return home while Francis wonders how to respond to his mother's exhortations. The collection "Kinloch family history and genealogy research files" in the South Carolina Historical Society archives contains transcripts of parts of letters from Anne to Francis during the American Revolutionary War period. While the following paragraphs were written in different sections across the collection, they all appear to be from the March 10, 1776 letter from Anne to Francis. Any x's are directly copied from the transcripts and may indicate a skipped portion of the transcribed letter. Any ellipses are my own.

"this will be sent to you by an Officer in our Continl [Continental] Troops, who has promised to see you xx who is besides an intimate friend & acquaintance of ours. xx shall show Capt. Gillon & c xx I hope before he leaves you, you may perhaps be able to congratulate yourself on being the subject of a free and great Empire, that may in future times vie with ancient Greece or Rome xx"

"this will be sent you from a Sea port in France by an Officer in our Continental troops who has promised to see you; I have assured him you will with pleasure go to him, as he will be 4 or 5 days ride from you, he says he will meet you half way & perhaps return with you as he will have little else to do but to travel about xxx I have taken the liberty to give him an invitation to your house_ I tell him I am sure you will do everything in your power to make agreeable to him & suppose that tho' tis Bachellor's Hall that you have a spare bed for a friend. We shall all be much obliged to you for any civilities You, or thro' your means your friends shall shew Capt. Gillon whom you will find a agreeable sensible obliging intelligent man & who can give you a very good account of the unhappy differences between our unnatural Parent & us xxx I have had for some time very little of my amiable worthy Huger's company, he being obliged to be on duty in Town in the Service of his Country & has lately been made a major of a Company of Riflemen ... Your old friend Mr Baird is again our neighbour but quite different & an imperious young wife & young children bawling about his ears & for heavens sake my dear Francy if you don't take a wife when you are young, never marry at all & to ad to poor Archie's troubles he cannot be prevailed upon to sign the association so that no person can buy from him, his situation is truly Deplorable, looked at unkindly by his old friends & stigmatized with the detested name of Tory xxx"

"... cause I am hopes to send you a book wrote by a native American, whose arguments will I hope convince you, we are right & which I assure you it will give me great pleasure to hear. … you'll please not to mention to Mr Boone, your going to meet this Gentn [Gentleman], till his return to America, as I suppose you sometimes make little excursions with out his leave, then you may if you please make an apology. At the same time this present situation of our affairs, renders this caution necessary, you'll please likewise to introduce him as coming from America, to none of your English friends. As he is not an American nor an English Man, & speaks many different languages, you may converse in which you please."

Anne appears to have sent both literature and people engaged in the American cause to convince her son to support the side of the colonies. Captain Gillon is likely Alexander Gillon, who was a merchant in Charleston, captain of the German Fusiliers of Charleston, and later Commodore of the South Carolina Navy. He was born in the Dutch Republic, which explains Anne's comments about him being neither American nor English. Anne made her opinions of the British Empire and the revolutionary American colonies clear in her letters. She describes the British Empire as an "unnatural parent" and hopes that her son will one day be proud to call himself a free citizen of America, a soon-to-be formed country that she believes will rival ancient empires. She also clearly realizes that Thomas Boone would be unhappy to know that Francis is associating with members of the American military, and she cautions Francis to avoid mentioning his meeting with Captain Gillon to his guardian. I do not know what role Anne played in naming Boone as the guardian of her children (I assume her late husband Francis was likely the one who made this decision), but it is interesting to see her strive to counteract Boone's influence on her son.

Captain Gillon may not have been the only person who helped Anne get through to her son. According to the "Kinloch family history and genealogy research files," Anne may have worked with John Laurens to persuade Francis to join the American side. As described above, John debated the merits of monarchism and republicanism with Francis in 1776, and the Kinloch family collections suggest that Anne may have been involved in this exchange. There are some brief mentions of John that describe his potential partnership with Anne. These descriptions, to my understanding, are written by descendants of the Kinlochs who compiled biographical information about the family:

"When 21 and travelling in France the American War was beginning and his [Francis's] mother [Anne] wrote to him to return and sent his friend John Laurens & Com. Gillon to urge his doing so."

Another anecdote mentions John without directly connecting him to Anne:

"He [Francis] was [loathe] to abandon England, his allegiance, career, & hopes there and the influence of his guardian & protestations of his friends & relations there detained him But his Mother's earnest solicitations brought him back to Carolina (I have one of her letters to him & his dear friend John Laurens alludes to his position in a letter to his father [Henry Laurens])."

I see two possibilities for these potential interactions between Anne, Francis, and John.

The Kinloch family has correspondence between Anne and John or other documents that indicate the two directly communicated and jointly endeavored to change Francis's political views. These documents, if they exist, do not appear to be present in the "Kinloch family history and genealogy research files."

The Kinloch family read some of John's letters to Francis in 1776 and assumed that Anne encouraged John to send these letters. This assumption may have been false, as there are no surviving letters (or at least no publicly available letters) between Anne and John that suggest they worked together or otherwise interacted. The families certainly knew each other, but we do not know the extent of their interactions outside of Francis Kinloch, Sr. and Henry Laurens engaging in business with one another. I do think it's hilarious that the Kinloch descendants potentially read John's scathing letters to Francis and went "Wow, Anne Kinloch must have asked him to send such blistering letters. Why else would John have been so highly motivated to criticize Francis's beliefs?" When in reality...John was a very passionate person who was Just Like That.

Francis was not immediately receptive to the arguments of his mother and friends, but his mother's criticism did eventually wear him down. He repeatedly wrote to Johannes von Müller about his mother and the conflict he felt between pursuing a career in England and returning home to South Carolina:

"My Mother, I hear, has suffered very much with a pain in her face. This has broke her health so much that She is scarce to be Known again, I hope in God that She may have got rid of it by this time, but the bane idea of her suffering at this very moment perhaps, added to all She must feel on my account, this wrings my very soul_ In the middle of my dreams of Ambition, the thought of Her shoots like lightning across my mind, I see her pale emaciated face, I see Her beckon to me, I hear her tell me how many times She has watched the live long night at my bedside, & Nature stirs within Me._ What can I do, my Muller, You Know, as well as I do, what I owe to My Guardian, You & every one must see the propriety of the plans that he has lay’d for my future welfare, & there is now every probability of their succeeding, on the other hand_" – Francis Kinloch to Johannes von Müller, April 4 [or 14], 1777

"some times I think of living in Switzerland, but then I am afraid of getting too much dishabituated to the World, & particularly to the English world, nor do I Know how soon the sources of my money may be dry, at others I have thought of serving a Campaign as a volunteer with General Howe, but that idea my Guardian has already smothered by objecting that it would immediately be attributed to Him, besides, I should draw down the curses of an angry mother, of a Mother whom I love too, upon my head. What remains then to do? An Idle life I neither can nor will lead_" – Francis Kinloch to Johannes von Müller, July 30, 1777

"Born to a fortune as ample as was necessary to render me independent, for upon moderate Computation My Brother & I would have been worth a thousand a year each, I find myself reduced to thank a Merchant for allowing me what I can just live upon for one year, burning with Ambition & preferring a military life, I am prevented from entering the field of Glory now opened to All corners in my Native Country, & am daily agitated by the sense of what I owe my Mother, whose solicitations should melt a heart much harder than mine, joined to the reflection of the numerous obligations I have received from Mr Boone._" – Francis Kinloch to Johannes von Müller, August 3, 1777

"If a man who is deprived of his fortune, who is cut off from his country, who is daily incurring the displeasure of His Mother, & who sees no probability of being provided for but by wading through the Chaos of an interested, laborious, sedentary, profession should utter some complaints, why clothe them with the appellation of ennuie, & cut off his only resource_" – Francis Kinloch to Johannes von Müller, August 14, 1777

After much contemplation, Kinloch would ultimately leave Europe and return to America in 1778. One can only imagine how Anne felt to finally be reunited with a son she had not seen for 10 years - a son who had left a boy and returned a man, a son who defied her pleadings for so long but ultimately heeded his mother's call.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

I love love love ALL of your fics, you have no idea the intensity of my joy when I clicked on your profile and knew all of your fandoms.

If you're still doing the fic ask game, could you do Pez Dispenser Debris? It's my favorite mha fic ever bc you nailed the characterizations but it's also objectively like the funniest thing ever? and I feel like the background world is so rich even if it's not the primary focus of the fic.

Mirio is meant to be to Izuku what Izuku is to everyone else.

Everyone who talks about Izuku is like “he is unrealistically perfect. You can’t even be mad at him for it. He is all that is noble and pure and good. I’ve spent the last three years consoling myself with the fact that my classmate is the greatest person to ever live so it’s okay that he’s totally lapping me” and then you get to Izuku’s perspective and he’s just like a horrible mess of anxiety and crisis.

Izuku is ON THE RECORD that he thinks Mirio is the greatest man to ever live. He is #blessed to breathe the same air. God actually made him as a model for rest of humanity to follow and Izuku’s just here to be thankful.

And then you get to Mirio’s perspective. And he’s also kind of a mess.

I think Mirio excels at keeping the appearance of cheer up. Maybe a little too well. He defaults to it as a mask. So you end up with him wanting to cry at the idea of all might trying to fill in for nighteye and never telling anyone.

I also really liked the idea of him being slightly possessive over Izuku.

It’s not in a toxic way. He’s not trying to isolate Izuku or anything. But like. Mirio Does Not want to admit that he deserves anything resembling a second billing in Izuku’s life. They got incredibly close while he was prepping for his final licensure exam. He’s the one that’s starting an agency with Izuku. So every time Aizawa tries to get information out of him or send him away he’s like No I’m Sorry As Izuku’s Best Friend And Older Brother I Have Primacy Here.

He hides it from Izuku, because he doesn’t want Izuku to be pressured to stay by his side. There was this sort of golden moment before Mirio graduated where they were both completely unknown to the public and happy that way. They made a lot of plans about being heroes together before anyone had so much as made Izuku an offer.

A lot’s happened since then, and Mirio doesn’t want to lose what they are together. He doesn’t want Izuku to go where he can’t follow. But he also doesn’t want to hold him back. He’s been secretly very bothered by the idea that Izuku’s just staying by his side out of obligation and that he’s ruining Izuku’s hero career the way everyone says he was.

The text messages he sent were a rare moment of letting the mask slip, because he realized that he needed to tell Izuku how badly he wanted to still be heroes together before it was too late. He’s been trying to give Izuku an easy out, but he doesn’t actually want Izuku to take it.

He wants to be heroes with his brother, the way they promised they would.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 In a remote hotel not that far from the town Striker had just informed his client of the failed assassination

Striker: I promise you ma’am I won’t let it happen again. I just need to find another time for an opportunity.

The person on the other line tapped their fingers against the surface of the counter they were seated at rythmatically. Her sharp amethyst eyes narrowed in anger.

Lilith: You better not fail again Striker. I have been made to serve that asshole for almost twenty years. Then he dares to lay with another, so listen to me good and listen to me well. I don’t care what you have to do or what it costs just put a bullet through the pricks head AND DO IT NOW!!!

Lilith panted standing up from her seat in fury. Across from her Abel completely oblivious to his mother’s psychotic breakdown continued listening to his favorite music on his ear phones as he ate his dinner. Lilith swore if he wasn’t her son she’d take him out too.

Striker: I understand ma’am, it won’t happen again.

Lilith: See that it doesn’t

She hangs up on him and goes back to her food.

The light in his life

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Adam groaned as he finally woke up from another barely restful sleep. He sat up and ran a hand through his short, chocolate locks tiredly before sitting up and getting out of bed. His mind and body went into autopilot as he took a shower, cleaned his face and teeth, and took his medication before finally donning a robe and heading downstairs to get some breakfast.

He automatically grimaced as he heard his wife's laughter before he even entered the kitchen. He saw Lilith pacing as he animatedly talked to a friend on the phone. However, her face stained when she noticed his presence.

She turned her back on him and continued her chat. Adam felt his irritation stir within him as he grabbed a mug and poured some coffee in it.

Abel: Morning Dad!

His lips pulled upwards at the sound of his seventeen-year-old. He turned around and saw his son eating on the marble counter. His smile doubled as soon as he saw Abel's.

Adam: Morning bud.

He went to sit down next to him and try to enjoy his morning with his son. Keyword, tried. He was just about to read the paper when he was barraged by Lilith.

Lilith: Well, I'm off I'll be gone for the majority of the day, but I'll be back here around four thirty or so to pick you up. When I get back, I want you both in your suits got that?

Abel: Yes mom.

Abel replied before going back to his breakfast. Adam sat there confused, however, picking him up and Abel to where?

Adam: Um Lilith where we are going tonight?

Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily: Adam I thought I told you this already. Tonight is the company party.

Adam: No, that's not right the company's anniversary isn't until a few months from now.

She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms: No, this is the anniversary of when your parents' company and my parent's company merged. Don't you remember? Because before that little contract was sealed another contract was sealed between us.

Adam knew exactly what she was getting into, she was talking about their marriage. About seventeen years ago Lilith's parents were having a rough patch with their own company. Even if their business was still lucritive in certain areas.

They decided to get help from Adam's parents, and they said that they could simply merge their companies as one. That way they would all still have rights to them as one day their children would too.

However, there was only one way for a merge such as this to happen. One minute Adam was being introduced to a beautiful girl the next he was standing at the altar saying I do. What made it even worse was that they were only eighteen at the time.

No, the worst possible outcome is being married to this beautiful yet cynical creature. At least there was one small yet noticeable light that came from this, Abel.

Adam was pulled out of his thoughts by his wife snapping her sharp, well-manicured fingers in his face.

Lilith: Ahem, as I was saying since this is our "family" company party Jr. is allowed to attend. But I want you to make sure he stays on his best behavior for the ENTIRE evening. Is that clear?

Adam: Crystal.

Lilith: Good, then I'm off.

Adam's hardened gaze followed her retreating form as she left. Not even bothering to at least say goodbye to their son. Adam started to take in big gulps of his drink, trying to ready himself for the day.

--

Adam downed yet another glass of champagne trying to keep himself busy as he watched the guests mingle about. Abel was not that far away talking to a few of the employees' children. Though Abel tended to be on the shyer side his friendly character always brought others to him.

Adam: (mutters) At least you're having a good time.

The sound of a familiar voice drew Adam's attention to Lilith.

Adam: (mutters): And so are you.

She wasn't that far from him yet didn't take any note or acknowledgment of him there. Or maybe she did, and she simply didn't care. Adam however did take notice in the topic she and her friends were discussing.

Him.

Despite everything in him screaming to walk away he got a little closer to them and listened closely.

Stella: So, tell me darling what is he like in bed? Is he at least desirable then?

Lilith: Ugh, don't make me laugh he is HORRENDOUS under the sheets. It's like he has no idea what to even do with it. And it was one thing back before he started taking those damn happy pills. Because at least then he wasn't bad to look at. Now every single time I have to lay with him it's like a walrus is trying to squash me!

Her friend let out a haughty laugh: Oh, I can't even imagine the horror of that brute naked let alone actually bedding someone.

Lilith: What makes it worse is that he practically has breasts now. Breasts Stella! But that's not even the absolute most dreadful part of being married to him.

Stella: Oh? What is then?

Lilith: I have to do all the work! I run his company; I run the house, and he even wants me to run him ragged in the sheets!

Stell: (gasps) You're not suggesting-

Lilith: Yup! From the very beginning, he had me do all the work while he lay there on his back like a log. A true bore and pathetic excuse for a human being. I'm glad I only had to birth one child so I could stop pretending to want to bed him.

The rest of the conversation was drowned out as stared down at himself. A hand going to his extended waistline and grimacing. He really had let himself go hadn't he?

Retracting the hand back he used it to scrub over his face in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing. Instead, he decided to find something stronger than champagne to drown himself in.

[amburuthings]

– Vir shiral malasa, bellanaris.

[technicallyfriendly]

So, I really love time travel fics and I love the Lucerys cuts out his own eye trope while Aemond watches in horror. That's why my brain conjured up the following plot idea:

What if after their respective deaths, they both travel back in time to the same moment without knowing the other came back too and it's the exact moment where Aemond demanded Lucerys' eye as paiment for his debt on Stormsend just before the fateful flight.

This time though Lucerys does not run. He processes the situation just a second before Aemond does and fueled by his own fear of death does the only thing that seems logical at this moment. He lungs for the dagger and proceeds just as Aemond demanded. Aemond snaps out of his own stupor just as the screaming starts and tries to stop Lucerys but it's already to late. The eye is lost. A meaningless debt which had been paid tenfold in another life had been paid again. And Lucerys looks up at him through tears and blood, his face twisted in agony and asks: "Will you let me leave now, uncle?"

[nattikay]

the constant inner struggle of a Na'vi speaker/teacher browsing Na'vi OCs

[angelsdvsts]

"oh, he lives on -- in very good condition. i know, which made the gift even more special -- which was exactly why i went out of my way to get you those glass unicorn figures that you wanted at that crystal shop," as soon as he noticed her showing interest in that sparkly little figures, he knew he had to get it for her; no matter the cost. laughter falls from his lips, imagining just how ridiculous she looked covered in all the different disney princesses. "can't believe you didn't save them and savor them the way i did with my pokemon ones," he shook his head, despite the two having such different personalities; it just seemed perfect that their lives aligned the way it did. "mm could even make a whole instagram post about being home, tag you in it and really get everyone talking," smirk forms across his lips, knowing that it'd probably cause chaos -- many people trying to figure out who his special girl was. eyes darts towards her pinky before playfully rolling his eyes and wrapping his own with hers; something they've always done as a child. "pinky promises are meant to not be broken," and he was serious about it. tongue darts out to dampen his lips as he lets out a small chuckle, "see -- that's the problem, i had to put the ten year plan on halt when i left town for a bit. . . but every time i come back i'm still working at it." rhys makes a disgusted face as he shudders, "i was really hoping for a chill visit, spending all my time with you." because he surely did miss her a hell of a lot when he was out of town. "when have i ever said something just because i'm your best friend?" he's shocked by her lack of dating, wondering if he was being too forward, "what if i take you on an actual date before i leave? mini golf and dinner?" brow quirks, his mind already had a bunch of mini dates planned with her. amusement lies across his features, roaring laughter falling from lips. "you dirty girl... is that your dirty little secret? and please, do inform me what happens in those locker rooms?"

"i hope you've been taking good care of him! i spent all my pocket money buying that for you, you know." and it warmed her chest to know that rhys still remembers it, still owns it. "of course i did, i bought them and immediately opened them and started putting them all over me --- mom nearly had a heart attack when i got home, she thought i'd gotten attacked or something, all those band aids on my arms and legs." there was nothing sweeter as a child than putting your minute amount of money toward something you really wanted. only she didn't horde her band aids like someone she knew. "hm, maybe i should? i mean, my profiles are private so anyone who sees it would just be from around here ... would take the heat off you for a little." and obviously lainey would get to announce herself as his special girl, a title that meant more to her than it should. "if that's the case then i won't vomit, pinky promise", femme extends her hand, wiggling her little finger with a playful grin. she couldn't stomach hearing rhys talk about other girls from town, wouldn't lie to him about her reaction either. "a ten year plan? wow, i had no idea you took my corruption so seriously --- how do you fit it in between practices and chasing off girls with a stick?" snorting lainey shrugs slightly, "like i said, you know how you look skater boy, you should have seen the thirsty moms coming a mile off." with anyone else lainey would have been too embarrassed to admit she hadn't dated, hadn't been swept off her feet by some out of towner or someone she's known since she was a kid --- like rhys. "nope, never been on a date, really. i mean, you have to say that because you're my best friend but ... thank you." now she rolls her eyes, playfully slapping her palms down against the table. "not smut! or at least not entirely smut, like, yes it happens but it's romance and i happen to have a soft spot for hockey." and if she accidentally imagined herself as the female main character in those books then oops. "i've learned a lot through those books, i know all about what happens in those locker rooms you know."