#this is the ninth one of these i’ve made

[james-spooky]

BABE WAKE UP NEW ARCHIVIST JUST DROPPED 🔥

[daisdu]

I actually so so love the trope where a character is so in love with a woman who they cannot be with that they feel a parental connection to her child by someone else, oftentimes a child they’ve never even met

I find it delightful both when the man is generally allied with the child like Hook and Baelfire in OUAT, but also when that relationship inexplicably makes them enemies, like Vlad and Danny in Danny Phantom

I just finished Nona the Ninth and people might disagree with me on this one, but I was getting a little bit of it from Pyrrha about Gideon

[scionshtola]

i’m rereading she who became the sun so i can read the sequel but i started looking up sapphic fantasy novels and ive read all the ones people recommend 😭

[lieutenant-amuel]

✨Gabe Symbolism✨

[lovebugism]

“i’m tireddd.”

*in a whiny voice* “i’m tired.” *mocking them*

this is sooo eddie coded

ty for feeding my grumpy eddie obsession anon — grump!eddie's boyfriend instincts take over when you're sleepy (ditzy!reader-ish, established relationship, fluff, 0.6k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

There’s something heavy in Eddie’s lap. Something heavy and warm and smelling like a fresh shower.

He fights open drooping eyelids, not knowing when he’d dozed off or how long he’d dozed off for — or exactly when you crawled haphazardly into his lap. He figures it couldn’t have been that long ago. ‘Cause his show is still on, and you’re still shifting to get comfortable over his legs.

“What are you doing?” he asks you, voice thick with sleep until he clears it away. 

You’ve got yourself curled in a tight ball, trying to make yourself as tiny as possible so you can fit more of yourself in his lap. The effort is futile. Only half you thrown over half of him. It doesn’t look comfortable in the slightest, but you settle with a contented sigh like you are, anyway. Eddie smooths a warm hand over your back and lets you lie there, on top of him.

“Laying on you,” you answer, muffled against him.

“Okay… Why?”

“‘Cause I love you.”

“Boo,” he moans. “Too vague.”

You whine. “Today was just so long, and I’m sooo tireddd.”

“Aww, you’re tired?” Eddie coos in a mocking voice. “You poor baby.”

He uses his sarcasm to compensate for how sweet he is to you. He acts annoyed but grabs a blanket from the back of the couch to drape over you anyway. Even goes as far as to swaddle you in it when he resituates you in his lap, sitting you more wholly over his thighs.

Vulnerability has always been hard for him, only ever feasible when he pretends it’s insincere.

“Is this better?” he mumbles into your hair.

You hum, warm against his neck. “Mhmm.”

“Good. ‘Cause you’re blocking the TV.”

“Don’t act like you’re not enjoying this,” you tease and pull slightly back from him. The tip of your nose runs up his jaw to the apple of his cheek. “There’s a reason I call you Teddy, you know?”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re soft. And fuzzy. And you love to cuddle.”

Eddie squints at you. “…You just made all that up.”

“You can like me, you know? We’re not in high school anymore, Teddy.”

“I always liked you,” he scoffs and holds you tighter against him, one arm around your back and the other beneath your knees. “Even before you knew I existed.”

“I always knew you existed!”

“Yeah? Since when?”

“Mr. Hauser’s Sex Ed class. Freshmen year. He was like, ‘That’s how the homo sapien male holds an erection—’” You recite it like it’s something you think about often. A reminiscent smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “—And the boy with the grown-out buzz cut behind me said, ‘Actually, Mr. Hauser, I think an erection is better held in the hand of the homo sapien female.’” 

Eddie laughs at the long-gone memory and starts to sparkle with it.

“And I’ve been smitten over that boy ever since,” you tell him with a sickly-sweet smile.

He scrunches his nose in disgust, still not used to the affection you show him so effortlessly. “You had a crush on me in ninth grade?” he teases like he hasn’t loved you since eighth.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. “Still do.”

“That’s so gross,” he grumbles like a storm cloud right before hugging you that much closer. 

He holds you with firm hands, suffocating in the best of ways, with every intention to melt with you. The bridge of his nose smushes into your neck. He inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of your shampoo. His exhale fans warm against your skin.

“Too gross to kiss?” you wonder in a tiny voice.

“Yes,” he answers quickly as he pulls away. “But I like gross, so…”

You press a smacking kiss to his plush grin. Then another for good measure. You hug him closer and bury your face into his neck. “Mm. You taste like a TV dinner,” you mumble into his skin.

Eddie tries hard to hide his laughter. It bubbles from his throat like sunshine, anyway.

[luvsupa]

tags: chef!geto x married!reader, cheating (don’t do this guys), naoya is readers husband, food play(ish), geto has tattoos + purple eyes, smut (kinda), mdni,

w.c: 1.9k

+ finally this is out of my drafts 🙂‍↕️

“i’ve hired a new chef.” your husband, naoya, announces coldly from the other end of the long, polished dining table. the sharp clink of cutlery echoes through the grand dining room as you both eat the meal your private chefs had meticulously prepared—medium rare wagyu steak with truffle mashed potatoes and buttered asparagus, the kind of meal that screams luxury. but his voice grates on you, cutting through your attempt to enjoy the evening.

you grip your knife tightly, scraping it against your plate in irritation, barely tasting the food. naoya’s eyes finally flick up from his plate, narrowing as he notices your silence. his leg bounces under the table, the tension radiating off him as he grows impatient with you ignoring him. 

“i’m speaking to you, woman,” he snaps through gritted teeth, barely holding back his annoyance.

you drop your utensils with a clatter, meeting his icy gaze. “and i’m listening. another chef, huh? what is this, the eighth or ninth employee you’ve hired just to fuck behind my back?”

naoya leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. his tongue rolls against his cheek, a clear sign that you’ve struck a nerve. but instead of shame, he’s amused.

“whatever happens between me and my staff is none of your concern,” he says smoothly, his arrogance on full display. “and this time, i’ve hired a male chef. try not to spread your legs for him the way you do for everyone else.”

the words sting, but they’re nothing new. his chuckle follows as he tosses his dirty napkin onto his half-eaten plate and stands, casually loosening his tie from his work suit. “slut,” he mutters under his breath as he walks out of the dining room, leaving you with the hollow clink of his footsteps fading in the distance.

you stare down at your left hand weighed down by stacks and stacks of luxurious jewelry—gifts from naoya, from a time when he at least pretended to love you. the massive diamond on your ring finger feels heavy, a cruel reminder of the life you thought you’d have. a life where you were cherished, not ignored and humiliated.

but that was before the affairs. before he cheated on you with everyone from his secretaries to the maids. you’ve tried to leave him more than once, but his connections, his power—he’s made it clear he’ll destroy you if you ever walk away. 

and so you stay, trapped in this gilded cage.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the next morning, you wake up tangled in silk sheets, the rich fabric cool against your skin. you turn to the clock on the nightstand—9:40 a.m. naoya is already gone, no doubt having left hours earlier for work. good, you think. it’s better that way. waking up to his smug face would only ruin your morning.

slipping into your soft slippers, you wrap yourself in a sheer lilac robe, its light fabric brushing against your bare skin as you make your way to the bathroom. after freshening up, you take extra care with your skincare routine and hair, making sure you look more presentable than you did when you woke up.

the enticing aroma of freshly baked pastries and pancakes floats through the air as you descend the grand, floating staircase—something you’d begged naoya to have built when you first moved in.

you walk into the kitchen, expecting to see one of the female chefs who probably has a history with your husband. but instead, you freeze mid-greeting.

“good morning, rina—oh…” your words trail off as your eyes land on a tall, muscular man in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with an ease that seems almost hypnotic. his back is turned to you, but you can’t help but admire the way his broad shoulders stretch the black tank top—no, wife beater—that clings to his frame. you can see the muscles in his arms flex with each movement, glistening in the soft morning light streaming through the tall windows. his long, dark hair is tied up in a neat bun, and his discarded chef’s jacket hangs over the back of a chair.

he turns at the sound of your voice, a warm smile spreading across his lips, and you’re suddenly struck by how impossibly handsome he is. it’s not just his looks—it’s his presence. confident and utterly intoxicating. your mouth goes dry as you try not to ogle him, but it’s impossible. fuck, he looks good.

“ah, good morning, mrs. zenin. apologies for the late breakfast,” he says smoothly, his voice deep and velvety, and you have to lean more into the wall for support.

you quickly correct him by letting him no the preferred name rather than naoya’s evil surname. “a-and, there’s no need to be so formal…?,” you drag on for his chance to introduce himself.

“such a beautiful name,” he compliments, sending a shiver down your spine. you feel like a teenage girl speaking to her crush for the first time. “i’m geto suguru.”

suguru. you roll the name over in your mind,

“do… do you need any help, suguru?” you offer, your voice barely above a whisper. you step closer to him, drawn in by his presence. his cologne is subtle, but it clogs your mind, intoxicating you as you catch the scent of sandalwood and something dark and sensual.

he looks down at you, smirking at your shy demeanor. “you wanna help, pretty?” his eyebrow quirks as he motions you to join him, and you nod, as the petname made you all happy.

he motions you to move to his other side but as you follow- your gaze catches something else—tattoos. a full sleeve, intricate designs snaking up his toned arm. your mouth goes dry again as your eyes linger, tracing the ink and the way it contrasts against his skin.

he notices, of course, and chuckles. “got these during a… phase. not really proud of it,” he admits casually, his voice smooth as silk.

“i think they’re attractive,” you say softly, barely able to look him in the eye as you flirt back.

his smirk widens, and he turns back to the stove, pouring a decent amount of pancake batter onto the pan. the butter sizzles, filling the air with the rich, delicious scent of breakfast. “i think you’re attractive,” he murmurs, “shame you’re already married.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, a reminder of naoya, of the life you’re stuck in. your smile falters, and geto notices, his sharp eyes catching every little reaction.

“is that whipped cream?” you ask quickly, desperate to change the subject, trying to pull yourself together.

“just finished,” he replies, turning down the heat on the jam. his voice is low, smooth, teasing. “wanna taste?”

you nod, unable to resist the pull of his presence. geto steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours as he dips his finger into the whipped cream. slowly, he brings it to his mouth. his lips part, his tongue gliding over his finger as he sucks the cream off, savouring it with a soft, sensual hum. his eyes flutter shut, and the moment feels intimate—too intimate.

your lips part slightly, unable to look away from the sight of him. his finger glistens as he pulls it from his mouth, the motion slow, deliberate, teasing you without a single word. he dips back into the bowl, scooping up a thick, generous glob of cream, his eyes darkening with desire.

“say ahh, baby,” he whispers, his voice so low, it’s almost a growl, holding his finger near your lips.

your breath catches, your glossed lips parting eagerly as you wait for him to feed you, heat pooling between your thighs at the way he’s looking at you. but instead, his hand accidentally slips, the cold cream falling between your breasts, slowly trickling down your cleavage.

you gasp at the shock of it, the cold against your heated skin sending a shiver through you.

“oh… i’m sorry,” he murmurs, though the wicked smirk curling at his lips tells you he’s anything but. “mah i clean that up?” he politely asks as you mutter out a soft, yes, as he smirks.

before you can fully process anything, his large hands are on you, lifting you effortlessly onto the cool marble counter. your breath hitches as your robe falls open slightly, the flimsy material slipping down your shoulders, baring more of your chest. geto positions himself between your legs, his gaze locked on your cleavage, his tongue slowly wetting his lips.

you tremble above him, his body so close, the heat of him making you dizzy. he leans in, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers slowly push more of the fabric of your robe, exposing the thin top beneath. his eyes darken with hunger as he takes in the sight of you.

with agonizing slowness, he lowers his head, his long tongue sliding up the valley between your breasts, collecting the cream in long, deliberate licks. the sensation sends a shock of pleasure through you, and your head falls back, a soft moan escaping your lips. he moves up to your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin, leaving hot, wet kisses. fuck, you didn’t realize how touch deprived you were until now- especially being in his presence is making your cunt quiver.

his hands glide up your body, one gripping your waist while the other cups your breast. your eyes flutter at the intensity as your breathing quickens as he kneads your breast through the thin fabric of your top. you let out a broken moan as he sucks harder at your neck while simultaneously pinching and twisting your erect nipples between his experienced fingers as his tongue continues its sinful path along your throat. and oh, the sweet melodies of your moans escaping your mouth does something to geto. he feels his work pants get tighter and tighter the more you let out your moans. fuckk he thinks it’s beyond pathetic how something so minimal is making him this hard.

“m-more,” you plead breathlessly, your voice a desperate whisper.

geto chuckles against your neck, his lips brushing your ear. “does your husband even know how fucking needy you are?” he taunts, his voice thick with amusement. his fingers pinch your nipple harder, drawing a gasp from you. “how much you crave this? how desperate you are to be touched like this?”

you shake your head, unable to form words, your body arching into his touch, wanting everything he can give. but just when you think he’s about to give in to your pleas, he pulls back, his heat leaving you suddenly cold as he turns his attention back to the stove, his movements casual as if nothing had just happened.

your eyes fly open in disbelief, your body still trembling, aching for him. he flips the pancakes calmly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as though you hadn’t just been begging him for more.

“i-i didn’t get a taste,” you whine softly, your voice thick with need, still perched on the counter, your legs open, desperate for him.

he glances back at you, a knowing grin spreading across his face as he finishes preparing you your breakfast as he turns around, hands you a beautifully plated dish of pancakes, the whipped cream and fresh jam. “i don’t want the food- i want you,” you whine as he places the food beside you.

“you can’t always get what you want, spoiled brat.” you huff in frustration, your body still burning for him, but before you can say a word, he leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“maybe i’ll let you have more when you learn some manners, hmm?” 

[rememberwren]

Pianist! Reader ft. Ghost "what the fuck is that infernal racket" (it's Reader practising Rimsy-Korsakoff) and Soap "play Flower of Scotland!!! Play Scotland the Brave!!!!!!" and Gaz "I have good fingers, can you teach me"

The only one who behaves is Price and that's because he's busy trying to find reader to fuck them on top of the bloody piano. Yes yes, he'll pay for another if it breaks or something

I just made a post the other day about Simon’s hand size vs. Johnny’s but the piano is so hand-focused (and I’m such a slut for hands) it’s hard not to think of it.

I see this piano being in a bar, and while playing it usually isn’t in your job description, everyone including the owner knows you’ve got the training to put on a little show during slow nights or special occasions (like that year there was a snowstorm on Christmas Eve and you made a grown man cry with your rendition of O Holy Night).

The 141 are the only newcomers in the bar, and the night is incredibly slow. You play one little tune as you pass the piano, pecking at the keys with a single finger, and it’s enough to attract their attention.

Johnny and Kyle crowd around the piano flirting obscenely with you (almost as much as they’re flirting with each other). They ask you to play something, so you do. Half the time your eyes are on the keys but the other half of the time they’re watching the large man who’s refused to leave the booth, the mask over his mouth doing nothing to disguise the way he’s watching your hands.

“Can you teach me?” Kyle asks, leaning against the piano lightly. “I’ve been told I have very good hands.”

You ignore that for the bait it is and shift over. “Depends. What’s your hand span?”

“My what?” he asks, laughing, sitting on the bench beside you.

“Your hand span! From your thumb to your pinky, how far can you reach on the piano.” You demonstrate, dextrous enough to span a ninth. Genetics keep you from reaching any further. It doesn’t bother you; Chopin could only reach a ninth after all.

Kyle’s hands can stretch to a tenth. Johnny insists on having his turn next, and the both of them begin arguing over whose hands are larger and more dextrous. They might as well have their dicks out, you think, rolling your eyes.

You stand and get back to your duties, leaving them to you with the piano a while longer. You’re busy pouring drinks when a sound rings out that catches your attention, clear as a bell over the quiet din of the bar. Your head snaps to the piano.

The man in the mask stands there—fingers easily spanning a twelfth.

Your mouth goes dry, imaging the size difference if you were to hold your hands up palm to palm. Satisfied, he turns away from the piano and accidentally catches your eye. He raises both his brows once in a jaunty little motion before sitting back down at the booth with his friends, something about his slumped posture registering as distinctly smug.

Rightfully so. You’re scrambling for a napkin to write your number on, that note still ringing in your ears.

[1d1195]

Most V

Read Most here | ~5.8k words

From me: I've been waiting for this part for a REALLY long time.

Warnings: *drum roll* SMUT, semi-public, unprotected, really needy 18+ also, some pretty angsty chats (and more Lauren)

Summary: Harry has been dying for this date for three years. And all the answers it comes with. Even if he doesn't like some of them. She missed Harry. Plain and simple.

With Addie off the phone, she gazed at her reflection for a moment. The girls did an amazing job with her hair and makeup. She felt beautiful. Beautiful enough to be on a date with Harry. He was one of the only people she had ever been on a date with (as much as she did it, she didn’t consider third-wheeling with Addie and Carter actually dating; and knowing Harry was her soulmate put a damper on the memory of her dates with one of the only other guys she dated, Beau, in the ninth grade). It was simultaneously terrifying and wonderful.

The thought of him made the nerves return. Closing her eyes, she smoothed down the skirt of her dress. It was light green. Nearly matched Harry’s eyes, which was why she selected it. There was a slight V-cut at her neck and had fluttery sleeves at the top of her shoulders. Eleanor insisted it looked beautiful against her skin and the skirt cinched slightly at her waist accentuating her curves and then came to a ruffled hem that hit just above her knee. With a pair of wedged nude sandals, she tried to create the effect that her legs were longer, but she slightly felt like she was playing dress up and this was not a date she was meant to go on.

“I just need to jump,” she whispered to herself encouragingly.

The full effect had Harry’s jaw nearly unhinged to the floor as she entered the kitchen. Eleanor punched him in the arm to keep him from drooling. Sarah smiled excitedly. “You look beautiful.”

“Extremely,” Harry nodded in agreement, his eyes scanning her in a way that made her feel naked, but in a really good way. She blushed so cutely. It made Harry’s heart skip a beat.  “Ready?” He asked.

She nodded. Because for the first time in ages she felt so ready to go on a date. Eager. Utterly excited to be alone with someone. “Yes,” she smiled.

*

Dinner passed in a blur. Truly, he was only thinking about the way her smile looked so nice on her lips. How soft her hair framed around her face. The way her skin practically glowed and it was only amplified by the makeup that she decidedly did not need but it looked like she was doing the products a favor by wearing them on her beautiful face. He was only pretty sure they spoke. Chatted about a variety of things but he wasn’t sure he could recall them in detail if asked because he was so overwhelmed by the fact that he was with her, on a date. After all that time.

He suspected there was stuff about work and college. He did remember he told her at least twenty stories about Mrs. Peterson and seriously worried she was one of his best friends, now. She talked about Carter and Addie. Gave an update on her mum and how she enjoyed living closer to her aunt.

But all those details disappeared. He was on a date with her. A date with the love of his life after three years of not seeing her and it was so goddamn effortless to talk to her, make her laugh, and smile with her.

It felt so good he could have cried.

“What are y’going t’do when y’finish your degree?”

“Uh,” she sighed, and Harry sensed her worry almost immediately. Wished he hadn’t made her feel uneasy even a little. Even if it was natural to feel that way.

A little anxiety about her future career was new for her. For the first time in so many years, nervousness that wasn’t because she was worried about him or her love for Harry was a bit of a curve ball. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted it badly, but didn’t know if it would pan out the way she saw it in her mind. “I’m not totally sure, actually,” she admitted. “I’ve got an online portfolio of my work, and I’ve sent it to a ton of publishers, magazines, et cetera,” she took a deep breath. “I could be really stereotypical and just continue waitressing by night and writing by day,” she shrugged. It wasn’t a bad gig. But it wasn’t what she hoped for exactly.

“Someone is going t’pick you up. You are too brilliant t’not be,” he sounded so sure—because he was. If there was anything he believed in, it was her, her dreams, and ambitions. “S’nice it can be... remote, yeah? Let you travel and visit your mum and whatnot,” stay here. With me. He thought silently to himself.

She nodded. “Yeah... I guess. But... I think I’d want to stay here.”

For three years, his heart was not inside his chest. But now it was back, the veins and arteries reconnecting to the rest of his body. Literally putting life back in him. It thudded so loudly he could barely make out the sound of the restaurant around them as he smiled at her. “Good,” he nodded. “Good,” he repeated quietly, relief heavier in his tone.

After a brief protest from her, (and for the first time since she arrived home, he didn’t even look at her as he pushed her hand away) Harry paid and signed the receipt for their meal. Once her glass was nothing but ice, he looked at her expectantly. “D’you want t’get coffee?” He asked, his voice full of hope because he didn’t want the night to end. Not even a little.

She nodded. If the night never ended, she would be glad.

Harry ushered her out of the restaurant, and she held her hand out for his. He took it eagerly and marveled at how her fingers fit the spaces between his; it felt like they were supposed to be there, and his hand was empty, not complete without hers attached to it.

They made their way toward the coffee shop up the road. Holding hands like they had done hundreds of times before. They chatted about the weather. He complimented the way her hair had lighter streaks throughout. She looked good. So good. “Louis and I have been running in the morning,” she told him with a shrug. “I think the sun hits different parts of my hair when it’s up and gives me this highlight effect.”

Harry had no idea he had been running with her. “You have?” He asked. Jealousy flooded him. It wasn’t fair to either of them. It was stupid. But the surprise was genuine.

“Yeah... the first time I went out and I saw him, I chased after him because he didn’t want to talk to me. But I buttered him up with those muffins I—”

“Holy shit, y’made the oat muffins?” He asked in shock. Forget what he said. The jealousy was real. She blushed, feeling bad she let Louis’ secret slip.

“You hate him now, don’t you?”

“Immensely,” he squeezed her hand as she giggled. “Did y’make the blueberry ones or the cranberry ones?”

“Do you actually want that answer?”

“No,” he shook his head quickly. “You’re right.”

“I’ll make some extra,” she offered.

Harry was about to ask her about breakfast tomorrow, but his phone began vibrating in his pocket. It was a great effort and made him feel awful, but he looked at it because he had to. As expected, it was his boss. “M’sorry kitten. S’work. Do y’want t’go in and order?” She smiled, nodding encouragingly. “Tell Lauren I said hi,” he said pressing the phone to his ear and stepping away from the shop a few paces.

Of course, someone was having a family emergency and without a family of his own, Harry was always the first call for overtime and help. There were still hours before he would need to go in. It wasn’t ideal, but still gave him plenty of time to finish his date.

It was well worth getting no sleep if it meant he could spend more precious time with her. It was one thing he was never going to take advantage of ever again. Time with her was the most invaluable thing he had.

“Everything okay?” She asked, holding out a cup to him.

“Thank you. Yeah... jus’... gotta do the overnight at midnight.”

“Oof,” she frowned. Then, much to his delight and surprise, she slipped her hand right back into his, like three years of nothingness didn’t stretch between them. Like they held hands for the last eleven-hundred odd days, every day. “Is that hard?”

For a moment, Harry was speechless, breathless, unable to remember what her question was asking. But then he brought himself back to reality. Harry didn’t like sleeping much. It was where he saw her most. All those dreams of what could have been... so no. It wasn’t hard to do overnights because at least when he was dead tired in the mornings after his shift, he didn’t dream. Didn’t see her. But he didn’t want to make her feel bad. “M’used to it.”

“Well, we can head home if you want to get a couple hours of sleep in before—”

“Do y’want t’go home?” He asked immediately, cutting her off, frowning at the idea of ending their night so quickly.

“No!” She answered just as immediately. Then, with a pink color painting her cheeks, she cleared her throat. “Just... want to make sure you’re... okay.”

Now he dreaded it. The couple of hours that he had seemed like nothing. There was no way he would get all the questions he wanted answered out in the open. But he had to start somewhere. “M’fine. Promise. Do y’want t’jus’ drive around for a bit?”

Silently, she nodded. “Please.”

*

Something shifted as they got back in his car. He wasn’t sure what, but it was a feeling like something had changed in the short time he was on the phone. It was in her eyes, the spiral of anxiety that was beginning to surface from inside her.

It seemed utterly unfair, and he silently hoped she wouldn’t retreat into herself. The thoughts of her leaving like she did three years ago rolled in his head so frequently now that she was home, he had a whole new set of nightmares to keep him company when he did sleep at night.

But right now, she was still in his car, and he had questions to ask.

For the time being, he pointed out new details on road signs that had been fixed and renovations to things in town she couldn’t see from the outside. She asked polite questions but really, he was just wasting time. So finally, Harry went to the next town over. He pulled into a little spot off the side of the road that fit exactly one car and gave a great view of the town. It wasn’t a mountain by any stretch, but high enough to make them feel tall and important.

He imagined it was a popular spot for teens with new licenses to make out as well.

Not that that was his intention.

There was a pause in their conversation. Comfortable and quiet. Then as Harry was about to ask her another question, she bounced in surprise at the sound of fireworks decorating the sky in front of them. “Wow,” she laughed. “All for me?” She winked at him.

He laughed and nodded. “M-hmm, had it all planned,” he watched the sky for a bit but the most beautiful thing he had the pleasure of looking at was her. So, he turned to watch her enjoy the display. She looked so pretty, her face illuminating every few seconds with a different color from the sky. He missed her so viscerally. Like even the freckles on his skin missed her. Every inch of him was plagued with wanting her even though she was right next to him.

If she went silent on him, he was going to lose his mind.

It was now, or never.

“Why did y’do it?” He whispered.

“Do what?” She asked, frowning at his quiet tone.

He closed his eyes, gripped the steering wheel tight. She had to know what he was talking about. “Why did you leave?”

Her breath caught and Harry felt bad for catching her off guard. But she had to know this needed to be said, needed to be dealt with. “Harry,” she sighed, swallowed hard. She looked out the passenger window avoiding the fireworks. “You should just... enjoy the fireworks. This isn’t—”

“Kitten, I need t’know.”

“I know,” her head knocked against the glass. He could just make out her reflection, her pained expression. It was rude of him to press. But he had to keep going. “But we—”

He pressed anyway. “You have t’tell me. Y’jus’ show up after three years of nothing. It killed me.”

“I know,” she croaked. “God, Harry, I know.”

“So tell me,” he was practically begging. “Don’t y’think I deserve t’know? You were m’whole world, kitten. S’not fair of you—”

“Harry, I fucking know!” She clenched her hands into fists in her lap. He was being unfair. In the time they were together they never fought. What did sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds have to fight about? When she left it was just sad. They never argued. So asking her to do this in his car on their first date after so many years, so many days of sadness and heartache, was completely unfair of him.

“I was so lost, kitten,” he wasn’t fighting fair at all. Coaxing her to breaking even though he had every right to know. She didn’t want the night to end and she feared it would if she told him.

“Harry—”

“Please, kitten. Baby, I just want t’understand—”

She choked out an involuntary sob the moment he said baby. “Because you deserved more than me! Okay? You deserved so much more than me and you wouldn’t have let me go so I just left, alright? You deserved more. So much more than me.”

The fireworks seemed quiet after her explosion.

But it didn’t make any more sense to Harry than the very day she first said it. “What does that even mean?”

Clearly, he broke something in her. She cried, hard. Breaking his heart further. He felt like an asshole, but he desperately needed to know. Her pretty makeup was going to be ruined thanks to him. “I don’t know. I don’t know,” she covered her mouth with her hand and sobbed into the window.

At least he had an answer.

Now for the next question. “Why did y’come back?” There was no answer for that. Just her quiet sniffles filled the car. She dug into his glove compartment for a napkin to wipe her face. If Harry wasn't so upset, he would have marveled at how she knew where everything was; some things didn't change even if they had. “Kitten, tell me.”

“Harry,” she whimpered. “Please...”

But he was desperate for answers. Desperate to put his heart back together. “I needed to see...” she croaked, her voice dying part way through the sentence.

“See what?” He was exasperated.

“That you had...” she swallowed. “That you had moved on.”

He turned away from her briefly, face twisting in anguish. He shook his head then turned back to her. He put his hand on her shoulder, asking her to face him and look at him when he said the next part. “Moved on?” He repeated. The words didn’t make sense. “How was I supposed t’move on, exactly?”

She sobbed and Harry wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Hold her and kiss her. He wanted to promise it was going to be okay. The way he always did when she cried. But he couldn’t. He needed to know how she thought that it was possible to exist without her. “I thought if I—”

“You are my soulmate, kitten. You know that.”

She whimpered, cheeks flushed, and tears streamed down her face. It pained him to look at her so upset but he had to finish this. Now. “You don’t believe in soulmates,” she whispered. Almost as if she wasn’t talking to him.

“But you told me we were,” his voice was crystal clear, definitive. No room to persuade him of anything else. She was his soulmate. She believed in them, so it had to be true. He believed in her. So that was enough. Harry gripped the steering wheel for all he was worth. Gritted his teeth as he asked his next question. “Did you move on?” The question was lost to the fireworks and the sound of her cries. But she clearly caught some of it.

“...What?” She whispered, tilting her head at him at a strange angle. Like he just told her that the grass was orange and it rained flower petals.

He inhaled sharply realizing he was agonizing over the thought. How long had he been holding that question in his head? Why didn’t he ask it sooner? Well, he knew why he didn’t ask it sooner. A large part of him never wanted to know the answer. “Do you have a boyfriend? Or... a fiancé?”

“Harry,” she rubbed her hands into her eyes.

“Goddammit," he sucked in a deep breath. "Tell me!” His heart was breaking.

“I didn’t date anyone while I was gone. I told people that I, and my heart, were happily taken. It never even crossed my mind, Harry,” she looked at her lap and swallowed nervously.

The fireworks complimented their evening perfectly. He released the breath he was holding and the grip he had on the steering wheel. The feeling came back to his fingers. His knuckles returned to the right color. “You said y’were taken?” He asked, thinking of the same notion he told Mrs. Peterson whenever she wanted to set him up on a blind date. Her gaze returned to his, and she held it for a moment, still in complete silence. Then she nodded. Her sniffles subsided.

Then she snorted, shaking her head with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “A fiancé, Harry? That’s ridiculous.”

“S’not,” he didn’t smile like she did. It was so serious to him. Felt it in his bones how serious it was. “Because if y’thought I was going t’move on from you... I don’t know, kitten,” he shook his head.

“No,” she repeated. Relief flooded him further. “I couldn’t... I took this first aid class,” she swallowed. “You would be really proud of me,” she smiled more genuinely through tears that filled her lash line. “I thought about all the things you taught me yourself when you practiced first aid and whatnot. I knew so much stuff. I was the class pet—”

“Course y’were.”

“—but we practiced taping wrists and ankles and I had to work with this guy, and I thought he was going to kill me,” she sniffed but that smile never left her lips. “I flinched every time his hand touched mine. He probably thought I was in a horrible relationship and that’s why I was learning how to tape injuries. I couldn’t even tell him that it was the exact opposite because I couldn’t tell him about you.”

Harry was silent, watching the explosion of color against the dark sky.

“I thought you would have moved on,” she whispered.

“Y’got your mom t’leave. I couldn’t even ask ‘bout you. You stopped talking to all of us.”

“If it helps at all, it was really lonely. Even with Addie and Carter...” she shrugged.

It didn’t. The thought of her being sad and lonely felt about as painful as her leaving. He was so grateful she had a friend to look after her. Someone to confide in. Because she left a lot of people behind who loved her, but at least Harry had them to comfort him as best they could.

“I thought about you every day,” she whispered. “I’ve been thinking about writing our story. I’ve been outlining it... reliving every memory through it. Every painful thing. I think it’ll be a series and honestly, I think it will be really good because the ending will be sad, and no one will see it coming because we didn’t see it coming and—”

“Our book?”

She paused. “You were my favorite thing to write about.”

He shook his head. He knew that. It wasn’t a conceited kind of thing. She said it all the time and he knew it. “What do you mean a sad ending?”

Another pause. She closed her eyes and sighed. “You can’t possibly want me back.”

Another long pause. Harry mulled it over and he realized just how angry he was. What had he done wrong that she didn’t feel adored by him? Where had he messed up and not made her feel safe? Did he let go of her hand like when they were on the balcony the other day? It was too much for him. His grip tightened on the steering wheel again. “What is the matter with you?” He put his head on the steering wheel against his hands as he spit the words out. He hated arguing with her. He felt pulled in two directions to have this conversation and comfort her. It seemed impossible to do them both at the same time.

“Harry,” she frowned. “I’m—”

He shook his head and smacked his hands against the wheel as he sat back. “I am never going t’stop wanting you. Don’t you get that? There is no ending with us. There can’t be. I have been waiting for three years for you t’come back t’me. You’re here and y’think I’m jus’ supposed t’have move—”

She was kissing him.

Her lips covered his in a hungry kind of way. Raw, achy, and hot. She pulled away briefly, her breath short pants. Her hand at the back of his head, her fingers pulled and tightened snuggly against locks of his hair. Poor Harry was so surprised he didn’t fully grasp what was happening and forgot to kiss her back.

He hoped she didn’t think it was too late. Or too soon, maybe, for him to agree to this kind of thing. But he only let one additional second pass before his lips were back on hers. His hands held each side of her face pulling her close to him, awkwardly around the console.

She seemed to melt into the kiss, her whole body releasing a long breath that made her shoulders fall, her body sinking forward. Harry moaned quietly into her mouth. One hand slid from her face into the back of her perfectly styled hair. Within five more seconds he started to pull her over the console separating them. He heard the clunk of one of her shoes falling onto the floor. With one hand on the small of her back, he used his free hand to push the seat back to give her more room between his body and the steering wheel.

Harry wasn’t her first kiss. But the way it felt, he may as well have been. She wished he was. There was nothing better than kissing him. There was a familiar possessiveness in the mix of their lips and breath. It was like he was saying no one else was ever going to kiss her as well as he did. Softly, his tongue slid across the seam of her lips to get her to open further.

Harry knew she didn’t like lots of tongue in her kisses. Which was fine with Harry, a quick brush of her tongue against his was plenty and not the part he cared about much anyway. The way she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and traced it with her tongue nearly made him finish in his pants. Her lips were so sweet. Just like her. It was the most natural feeling in the world to kiss her. Like he kissed her yesterday, the day before, all last year, and every other day succeeding her departure. “God,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Hmm,” he hummed. His hands touched everywhere. Roamed along her sides and around her back, up her arms and cupped the sides of her neck. He wanted to touch her everywhere. It felt so good to hold her and the way she moaned made him assume she was enjoying it just as much. It had been ages since she had been touched and that was fine because she didn’t want anyone to touch her but Harry. His hands were warm and felt so good on her back. Even through her dress. Even though it was summer and very warm, she shivered and nuzzled closer. The car was too small and the space between them was too big. “Baby, can we—”

“Yes,” she whispered. It didn’t matter what he asked. She was a yes to anything he said. He groaned into her mouth and slid his hands between them, lifting the skirt of her dress just above her hips so everything was covered but easier to access.

“Kitten,” he moaned when she reached between them as well and fiddled with the button of his jeans. Why on earth would he have a condom? The thought of being with anyone else so intimately was laughable. “I don’t have—”

“I don’t care.”

He groaned again and kissed down the length of her neck, his tongue poking out to lick at the spots he kissed. She thought she was going to pass out, but she didn’t want to miss a second of this feeling. So, she refused to pass out. “I forgot,” he was breathless as he shifted trying to make space between them so he could pull his pants down just a little more, just enough. “Forgot how much I missed this.”

“What did you miss?” She whispered just as breathlessly, her lips against his neck as he reached between the two of them, slid his fingers against her underwear and pushed it to the side. She whimpered at the light friction of his knuckle barely grazing her clit even though it wasn’t his intention.

Harry’s moans were nearly obscene. They turned her to jelly. “I missed everything, kitten. Everything.”

She shivered again at his response. When she felt him lining himself up, pressing through her folds so easily because she was already an aching wet mess for him, she cried out again. The electric feeling coursed through her and it wasn’t fair that she made him lose this feeling for three years. “Oh,” she tucked her face into his neck.

“I’m... fuck, baby,” he whispered as the head of his cock slipped deeper inside her. He didn’t want to know if she had sex while he was gone. In his mind he was the only person that got to be inside her like this—to feel her like this. His voice was raspy. Not even a whisper really. “I’m not...” his other hand that wasn’t helping her slip further down on him cupped the back of her neck. “S’not going t’last...” He couldn’t even give a time frame because he was so far gone. “S’been...”

She didn’t want to know how long it had been for him. The idea he had sex with someone else would probably make her inconsolable while he was inside her and it wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own. She shook her head and kissed the space just below his ear that used to drive him crazy. “I don’t mind,” she promised.

“God,” he closed his eyes and pressed his face to the front of her chest. Her dress was still in the way, but he wanted to rip it off her. He couldn’t because as much as he was enjoying this—and yes, he would have loved to feel her nipples in his mouth—he refused the risk of anyone seeing her naked like that. This was already bolder than anything they had ever done before—and the intimacy of seeing her fall apart was for him only. A possessive stance he would never let go of.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. It was too hot in the car; her skin was damp with sweat from pressing so close to Harry and the exertion of fitting in the small space between him and the steering wheel. She wanted nothing more than to stay glued to Harry like that, his dick deep inside her for as long as she lived. They really were two puzzle pieces just meant to fit together. For a brief moment she paused the way she was moving slowly up and down his cock; hoping that maybe she would just die in that car because at least this would be the last thing she ever did. Their breathing stilled, quieted. He tilted his neck back, smiled as he gazed up at her.

“You’re so beautiful, kitten,” he whispered.

It was embarrassing that she could come that quickly and that hard from just his compliment and he wasn’t even moving inside her.

She gasped so loudly. Her whines and moans releasing from her without warning. She felt distraught and whole. It was practically primal the way she started to bounce up and down again, only ever so slightly, her legs shaking to find purchase on the side of his seat near the door and dodging the seatbelt holder with her knee. It wasn’t conducive to do this here but what choice did they have when they couldn’t wait a second longer?

“Oh my God, fuck, kitten,” he groaned, wrapping his arms tight around her waist, kissing at her throat and the exposed cleavage he did have access too. He met her greedy little bounces to prolong the euphoria that was coursing through her, making her clench around his cock so hard he thought he was going to exist outside of his body. “Baby, I can’t pull out,” he warned her.

They were young, but not in high school young anymore. Getting pregnant wasn’t their worst fear anymore as it was their first go around leading to her going to the doctor and asking for birth control. In fact, getting pregnant probably didn’t even crack the top ten. But even still... “Pill,” she rasped. “Please,” she begged.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned. His hand slid beneath her dress. He pressed the tip of his finger directly on her clit and rubbed perfect little circles on it.

So perfectly, she was going to explode again. The fireworks had nothing on her. “Oh my God, please,” she cried. The plead, the feel of her squeezing around him again, the heat of her and the car... all of it was a heady combination that left Harry completely useless as he finished inside her at the exact moment that she dropped her face to his shoulder again and fluttered around him. As Harry finally released a breath, he had been holding for three years it seemed, he found she was still trying to squeeze her thighs around him to savor the pleasure. He couldn’t blame her. All he wanted to do was make her come over and over.

There were a lot of firsts they shared over their relationship, and Harry was so grateful to have another even after all the time between them. His body twitched as she stayed in place, her breathing finally slowing. Harry felt hot, too hot but didn’t dare remove her from his body. He held her to him as he shifted more, her bum bumped into the car horn. She giggled once and Harry smiled. His breathing slowed, following hers.

The car was silent except for their labored breathing. They were young when they had sex back then. They thought it was good back then. But it didn’t compare to that. She felt a wave of worry that he had practiced all while she was gone. The same worry went right through him nearly at the same time. Maybe she sensed it because he relieved her with one sentence. “I read an embarrassing number of books with scenes like the one we just reenacted.”

Harry sighed with relief; his nose pressed to her ear. His lips brushed her temple and he spoke quietly. “Send me every single page y’read, kitten.”

She giggled making her clench around him as he softened. He groaned involuntarily. He didn’t want to leave her body. Terrified it would never be like this again. As he started to move, she stopped him. “Um... Do you have a towel?” She whispered; her cheeks probably would have flushed asking the question, but it was impossible to tell with the endorphins that flooded her blood doing most of the work now.

Harry felt a little stupid at the moment, so he nodded, then shook his head. He didn’t fully understand her question but wanted to try for her.

“Uhh... here,” he reached in the backseat for a T-shirt with the station’s logo on it. As he shifted, she whimpered at the feeling of him moving inside her again. He kept a hand on her dress, right at her hip and rubbed his thumb soothingly against her.

“I can’t use this and then have you wear it around town,” she frowned.

“Baby,” he snickered. “I wouldn’t wear it... in public," he teased. She lightly hit his chest with the back of her hand.

She slowly pulled off him, falling back into the passenger seat, the T-shirt between her legs. She finger-combed her hair as best she could and checked her makeup for obvious smudges. Harry mussed with his hair quickly and then placed his hand on her knee. She held it with both hands, brought his fingers to her lips and kissed his knuckles no less than ten times.

“That was perfect,” she whispered.

Forget her writing, she was her very own poem. He smiled. “Always, kitten.”

*

Harry took the long way back to her apartment. Her grip didn’t loosen around his hand. Not even when he needed to take a turn. When he finally parked, she looked at him expectantly. “I don’t want t’go,” he whispered. “I would quit right now, if I could. I want t’talk all night and tell y’everything and know everything, kitten. M’so...” he shook his head terrified that if he left right now all the progress, everything would be gone. “I missed you so completely baby. I need t’know everything there is t’know ‘bout you and the last three years and all the thoughts y’had. S’not fair and m’so—”

“Harry,” she smiled, squeezed his hand encouragingly. She brought a hand to his chin and rested her forehead against his. “I’ll see you tomorrow; right after your shift, okay?” she kissed him gently on the lips. A soft brush of promising more.

Relief flooded him. “Yeah?” Their mouths were so close as he spoke, his lips touched hers the entire time.

“I’ll be here,” she promised. That little saying, “it was music to his ears,” never really made much sense to him. But right then it did. It made so much sense. She was music. She was the sun. She was fireworks. “Good night, Harry. Have a good shift,” she whispered and pressed her lips solidly against his once more making him feel like he could do anything.

--

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[figonas]

I’m sorry but you all aren’t listening, lyctorhood itself is not the “indelible sin” and you can pry this theory from my cold dead hands, honestly, maybe not even then. TazMuir herself could not dissuade me until she explicitly tells me otherwise. My proof for this you ask? Pyrrha’s conversation with Varun in NtN chapter 9.

But let’s backtrack for a second. John has stated that the resurrection beasts are after him and the lyctors for committing the indelible sin of lyctorhood, and as such the lyctors can never return to the Dominican System for fear of drawing the RBs back to the Nine Houses. I’ve never believed this was true given the fact that John is always the greatest common denominator when it comes to the presence of an RB and there’s no mention of an RB going after a lone lyctor. Sure, lyctors have been killed fighting resurrection beasts but there’s a huge difference between being caught in the crossfire and starting a firefight. For me, Nona the Ninth only reinforced that what we’ve been told is the “indelible sin” is either John misunderstanding the RBs (doubtful) or lying for his own purposes (more likely).

In chapter 9 of NtN, Nona recounts the story of her disastrous beach trip and towards the end of this recitation Nona says that Pyrrha;

“…crossed to the taped-up window, bottle and glass in hand. To Nona’s awe, she twitched the blackout curtains aside—stood bathed in the hyper-blue light from the sky as Nona held her breath—and she said to the window, “Here’s to Camilla Hect, yet another of devotion’s casualties,” and knocked back the glass. Then she said to the light, quite gently, “No, I don’t blame you, man … He was always looking for things to throw himself on.”

Pyrrha stands in front of Nona, bathed in the light of Varun the Eater, and proceeds to have a conversation with it. We only get one side but based on the context of the last line, “No, I don’t blame you, man … He was always looking for things to throw himself on.” Varun seemingly apologizes to Pyrrha for killing G1deon. It’s proven later on in the book that Varun can speak to Nona, and while it could be argued that since G1deon is dead and his soul is gone the “indelible sin” has been undone this still begs the question; why would the punisher apologize to the sinner?

If Varun and the other RBs are hunting the lyctors to dole out justice for their sins why would they apologize for doing the very thing they sought to do unless that wasn’t their true intent. The “indelible sin” is not the consumption of another soul, it is the consumption of a specific soul. It is John taking Alecto into himself, not being able to house all of her and instead making an exchange. Housing a piece of her in him, and a piece of him in her. Splintering the soul of a great and terrible force into manageable parts. Which explains Varun’s ominous presence hanging over the planet in the first place.

If RBs are hunting Lyctors there are no lyctors on this planet. Palamedes has not consumed Camilla’s soul, G1deon is gone, Harrow is in the River, Gideon is thumbtacked to her dead body, the only soul of any significance to Varun is Nona. Later on in chapter 13 Varun, by way of Judith, says to Nona;

“…what they did to you and what they wrung from you and what shape they made you fill—we see you still—we seek you still—we murdered—we who murder—you inadvertent tool—you misused green thing—come back to us—take vengeance for us—we saw you—we see you—I see you.”

And in chapter 27,

“….what did he do to you, to make you this way.”

What did HE do to you!!! what did HE do to YOU!! To give John credit he doesn’t deserve he may not realize it himself but the RBs have been looking for Alecto this whole time. They don’t want the lyctors, they want what John stole, they want the piece of Alecto inside of him. Want to make her whole again, their misused green thing. She’s almost there. She has her piece back from harrow’s body, united with the piece of her hidden in the locked tomb. She only has 1 piece left to collect. And god knows what will happen when the green and breathing thing is whole once again.

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - IX

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly. Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year. A marriage of convenience. Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.”

Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality. Slow burn. Semi-enemies to lovers. Available on AO3 here.

Obscured half-truths should have been easier to spot.  Was it mere convenience that caused me to overlook such details or the notion that if she lasted this long under Pantalone’s reign, she was likely a safe candidate?  Worse still, was it because I find her to be one of the only tolerable individuals to deal with?

She wasn’t lying about her father, the change in circumstance, a decision to utilize her skills away from home.  Not only was it obvious merely from her demeanor at dinner the other night but she had little reason to hide such motivations to begin with.  Her candor prior to this arrangement was a refreshing surprise in comparison to the layered considerations from my colleagues.

Her father’s health failed and although she did her best to keep the books tidy, they slipped into the red when deadlines were not met.  Some months were just above water only for the subsequent ones to sink again.  In most cases, Agents were sent to take care of such matters, but circumstances required the Regrator’s personal assessment.  They were denied an appeal and had little choice but to declare bankruptcy; subsequently, their credit was ruined, financially and socially.  Sneznhayan winters were bearable with a collective community, with every individual playing their part.  When one could not contribute, however…

To give up one’s resources and time and energy for another.  Only the Eremites showed me such sentiments provided I pulled my weight in return.

I leaned back in my chair and rested my boots on my desk, tossing aside my mask to press the heels of my palms into my eyes.  Ridiculous.  Had I truly overlooked her personnel and public records all for the sake of this experiment?  A mistake I would have made centuries ago, not now.  Emotion certainly didn’t drive this decision, for we had no such bond.  And although I’ve had fleeting thoughts of what her body might feel like, I was not a creature of hungry lust.

Exploring a purposeful relationship was enticing, a new adventure, and I was never one to turn down an opportunity.

How foolish.

Such circumstances in life naturally led to the decisions she has made for the rest of her career.  The Fatui, while hardly beloved, offered enticing pay and there were plenty of enemies to sell information to.  She had gone to the postal service before the bank that day I saw her in town and she has a knack for searching for details beyond her station.  It was the only thing that made sense. 

She was hardly the first I have observed to turn to such desperate measures.  Treason was reserved for the betterment of the people at the cost of oneself, but if she were to be arrested or killed, who would care for her loved ones?  Given previous conversations, she hardly expected anything from me in this regard.  Which meant she gave little thought to the consequences of her actions or had terrible foresight.

There was little else in the file.  The Regrator would have approved her resume and background and thus must know she may not be as trustworthy as others.  I, for one, preferred to have different minds on various projects to identify other ways of thinking.  But the Ninth was not one for dissonance, and either he hired her out of ironic pity or he gave no second thought to those he financially fucked over.

Somehow, the latter would not be surprising in the least.

Despite it all, I found myself intrigued.  Did she have a plan?  What was her endgame? 

“This is rather amusing, Prime,” Omega crooned, papers fluttering as the Segment tossed the files back onto my desk.  “I would have thought Zeta to be the one to be wrapped up in such a dramatic tale.”

“I resent that,” came a second voice, off to the right of my desk.  “Besides, we need a little excitement amongst ourselves on occasion.”

“Neglecting a background check on a future spouse you barely know outside of a professional capacity is careless.  I am aware all of us manage to get along with her but you must not be thinking,” Omega continued.

“All of us know what he was thinking when he caught her touching—”

“Enough,” I barked, splaying my hands out as I glared at the two Segments.  “This is a golden opportunity if managed correctly.  Insight into a common life experience and gaining information not first disseminated from the Marionette or the Regrator.  She’ll be an asset if used correctly.”

“She’s either the stupidest person in existence or the bravest,” Zeta chimed in, gleeful.  “Treason right under a Harbinger’s nose for years and now she’s gone and married said Harbinger’s higher ranked colleague.”

The silence of my inner mind was deafening as every part of me came to the correct conclusion: we stood to lose a great deal if she flew too close to the sun.  Setting aside Pantalone’s bet and putting everything at face value, the spouse of a Harbinger found to be a spy would cast my own credibility into account.  And I have worked far, far too hard over these centuries.

Damn it all.

“A solution will be found,” I stated, the familiar confidence settling the stirring of the Segment network.

I rose to my feet and straightened my sleeves, erasing the traces of uneasy thoughts.  Before me, Omega and Zeta remained unconvinced, their own arrogance and perception too sharp, too much like my own.

But it was not them I needed to concern myself with.  My meeting with Pantalone this afternoon was more pressing. 

As I dismissed the others and locked my study, Omega turned back and said, “This is your experiment, Prime.  But do let us know if you need a…helping hand.  She’s our wife, too.”

I gritted my teeth, fighting back the urge to remind Omega that I created all of my Segments as tools of perception, functioning individuals separate from myself.  A waste of breath.  Whatever eventuality was inevitable with my Accountant, there was little reason for it to include being woven into a web of my Segment’s antics.

The office was quiet when I arrived upstairs, the faint sounds of a group lunch mingling with those of a client conversion and a series of clicks from a typewriter.  Boring and slow and enough to stir my mind to madness if I were subjected to such an environment; the briefest stint in the Akademiya archives sorting organizing copies of theses with little to no consequence on the greater world was enough to solidify that. 

Her old office was nothing but a series of file boxes and a bookshelf, not yet re-occupied.  It seemed far smaller than I recalled it being.  An observation worth analyzing later.

The Accountant was now found in the office just outside of Pantalone’s double doors, a wide vista spanning out behind her and room enough for a small sitting area, tucked out of view from the half-windows that lined the front of her new office.  So far, she had only managed to place a few of the familiar knick-knacks from prior business trips as personal marks.  She was deep in conversation with an Agent, their hood down as they stood just inside the threshold, speaking.  Something in my ribcage ached at the sight of her, sun painting her from behind as she idly played with the letter opener.  Distantly, I could still smell her perfume, a testament to its quality.  The scent had lingered in the dressing room this morning, warm, a little musky, sweet in afternote. 

Rationality kept its hold on me but memories of pressing her against the wall, impulsive and opportunistic, burned my eyes every time I blinked.  Such need would be dealt with later.  It held no place now.

Briefly, I considered her high shoulders and legs ankles as she feigned casualty, leaning against her desk.  Part of me thought to rap my knuckles against the wood paneling and startle the rambling Agent.  Just as I raised my hand, the Accountant’s head turned slightly, eyes shifting and meeting mine.  She gave the smallest shake of her head before returning her attention to the Agent, as if nothing had happened.

I bit back a smirk.  How well she knew my curiosity for reactions.

Not bothering to knock on the Regrator’s door, I slipped away and shoved all thoughts of her soft skin to the recesses of my mind.

Pantalone barely looked up from his desk at my presence, bemusement sitting in his brow.  A chill ran through the office, the window behind him cracked open despite the whipping snow dancing down from the rooftops.  He claimed it was for fresh air, regardless of the season.  I once argued the inefficiency of such behavior and, upon my next visit, he’d purposefully gone out of his way to make it colder fully knowing one such as myself was used to cold desert nights.

I contemplated pacing to keep the rampant thoughts of frustration at bay but instead settled into one of the nearby sofas.  The leather was supple, more giving than at first glance, disarming.  Propping my elbow up on the back, I rested my head on my fist before crossing an ankle over my lap.  This meeting would be a waste of time, as it usually was, and the Segments were not helpful in sorting thought priority.

“You appear to have returned from an expedition, not a honeymoon, old friend.  Don’t tell me marriage doesn’t suit you already,” the banker crooned.

Already laying landmines?  How droll.  Beneath my mask, my eye twitched.  This meeting was supposed to be about several other matters, the most important of which was gauging how much he knew already regarding the topic the Accountant dropped in my lap.  He had to be aware of the pattern, but whether he intended to do something about it...   

I waved a hand.  “Unexpected occurrences in the lab in my absence.  We had a fine time away.”

Pantalone chuckled as he rose from his desk, picking up his walking stick as he went, the thing little more than a prop.

“I would have expected you more…relaxed, is all.  You’ll need to be a little more convincing than just watching from a distance, Zandik.”

Amused, I tilted my head.  “Whatever are you talking about, banker?”

“You played your role at the wedding well enough.  But what about the bedroom?”

Pantalone took his time, the tip of his cane thumping into the plush carpet as he went.  He was practically in time with the ridiculous clock in the corner, ticking away.  Truly, he was wasting both of our times prying?

“Get to your useless point already,” I glowered.

“Apparently, the both of you were never quite out of sight, seemingly glued to one another but not in the…traditional sense.  More like friends than eager lovers.”

With a smile, Pantalone continued, pacing as he went.

“That was not the tell, though.  It may have been beneficial to let the staff do their job instead of insisting on making the coffee yourself.  The housekeeper and cook might be in your pocket but they do enjoy chatting with the groundskeeper.”

“What happens between my wife and I is no one else’s business.”

The words were pure fact but that was yet another blind spot I’d overlooked.  Beneficial, perhaps, to the farce of a happy marriage on the surface.  To any outsider, it might appear that way.  But it was unlike me to forget my position, one I had overcome death itself, in a sense, to achieve.  In the depths of my mind, Omega chuckled.

Pantalone ceased his peacocking and finally settled onto the other end of the couch, thumb idly playing with the design of the cane’s metal top.  “It is when you’re a Harbinger, my friend.  We might above the nobility but that does not mean people won’t talk.”

My mind lingered again on unspoken expectations, the peripherals that mattered little to an experiment focused on a single goal but were imperative to a proper union befitting my station.  Even if this agreement was only for a year at minimum, eventually we would need to tackle nonsense such as intimacy, at least feigning it, let alone legacies…

They wouldn’t, not if this didn’t last.  And she…why would she agree to more than a year with me?  She’d practically thrown herself at me but that didn’t mean much in marriages such as this.  He was not entitled to her physicality, nor was she to his.

And only a fool would consider throwing children into a paper-thin union.  Genetics was always such a fascinating field, the potential born from random sequencing in a particular order, uncovering the result only as the subject grew…

Just long enough to win the bet.  That was all they needed.  Nothing less, but nothing more, either.  She would get what she was owed from their agreement and even as a divorcee of a Harbinger, she would be a viable candidate for another, purely out of a strategic alliance. 

She would be fine.

“You certainly put on a show at the wedding but now it’s time to continue proving it,” Pantalone said, his golden eyes boring into my mask.  “And distantly watching your wife or allowing ridiculous rumors to circulate about her is not in your best interest.  Nor is an unsatisfied partner.  At least for your sake.  You look as if you’re going to snap in two.  Get it over with, would you?”

“Why don’t you concern yourself with your own affairs, Regrator?  It’s not as if you fare any better in solitude.”

“Touche.  As you said, no one else’s business.”

“Then drop it.  I came to discuss something else.”

The other man raised a thin eyebrow in silent query, leaning back into the arm of the sofa.

“You’re aware that Northland is not the only source of my funding,” I began.

“Naturally.”

“A few of my investors happen to be within the nobility.  Recently, Omega reported that some of them are claiming financial hardship and they’re unable to come up with the rest of their capital.  I’m curious if the same has occurred for Northland itself, if there’s been increase in bankruptcies or other defaults as of late.”

Pantalone raised his head slightly, eyes leaving mine for a moment in consideration.  So, Northland’s capital, which came from the very money deposited by its customers, was more vulnerable than it seemed.  Had he done a poor job of hiding it?  Or was it intentional? 

“I imagine they’ve been crumbling under the new tax laws and tariffs as of late,” the Ninth supplied.  “But they must understand that their roles as nobles are to take the higher ground and sacrifice for those with fewer means than themselves.  How else are we meant to bridge the gap, hmm?”

And yet, the Accountant made it seem so…

His words were too dismissive, too easy.  I may not dabble in economics but for her to be so concerned, to consider it information critical enough to examine, there had to be more to it. 

But it was clear that was all I was going to get, even if I resorted to pushing back against him by pulling rank.  I rose to leave, ready to be done with this waste of time, and Pantalone did the same, closing the distance between us.  As I neared the door, he put a hand on my shoulder.

“Omega will receive his funding, one way or another,” the banker smiled, his eyes closing in congeniality.  “I’m sure Tartaglia would be more than happy to manage a few small collections, the Rooster said the boy is going stir-crazy as of late.”

“I’ll consider it.  Such actions may not be necessary.”

He patted my back, the action patronizing.  “You need only ask, dear friend.  Moving forward, another will be handling your accounts and budgets; can’t have your wife balancing your books, can we?

“Surely you didn’t move her merely because of her change in station?  She’s not one for taking credit where none is due,” I replied, glaring over my shoulder.

“Since it needs to be said, her promotion was both earned and acts a way to keep her from the rest of the nonsense.  There’s a betting pool for her resignation, another for when she begins to take sick days and wears looser clothing.  Her colleagues are just as vicious as ours, I saw no need for her to be subjected to it.”

“Betting pools started by you, undoubtedly,” I shot back.  “Considering your prying nature.”

“I’m wounded, old friend,” the Regrator pressed a hand to his chest, his expression sullen.  It changed as suddenly as it began, his usual stoicism settling in.  “But do consider what I’ve said.  Showing up to your own dinner party with this much tension will undoubtedly raise more speculation than quell it.”

Easy for you to say, you don’t have multiple versions of yourself in your head, I thought bitterly, opening the door and slamming it behind me.

I attempted to ease the tension in my jaw by focusing on the corridor and not the motion off to my left.  The slam caused her to flinch and look up, unused to the proximity of those whose blood pressure rose leaving the Regrator’s office. 

Looking at her did nothing to help with that.  The expression on her face was too similar to what I remembered from that morning, lips parted in ecstasy she thought was private…

Taking her on her desk, where Pantalone could hear every sound, would shut the other man up for good.  Would shut everyone else up for good.  But that required him to be a different man, one driven by base desire alone, with no respect for the set-up of the experiment.

And she wasn’t mine to have.  Not really, marriage laws be damned.

The experiment needed to continue unclouded.  Marriage was more than lust, more than sex, more than physical intimacy.  Her suggestions for trying to get along and know one another, as much as he would let her, would certainly lead to more success in that regard.

The moment passed as quickly as it came when I entered her office, her hand still poised mid-calculation.

“Thank you for not interrupting earlier,” she said, returning to her work.  “They were rather informative, all things considered.  And I shouldn’t have to say that I don’t need a knight in shining armor.”

“I never claimed to be one.”

“Wouldn’t suit you anyway.”

Selfishly, I allowed myself the thought that kissing her would feel sublime, regardless.  Not an hour went by where I didn’t feel her lips on mine, a ghost of the stolen kisses from weeks ago.  If I was struggling with this, it stood to reason she might be as well.  And with the new information from this morning, I’m beginning to understand just what kind of position she put herself in, marrying me: she was not unlike Tyr, putting her arm in the mouth of Fenrir, as the old Khaenriahn myths went.

“Take an extended lunch and come to my workshop,” I said.  “We need to discuss a few details.”

She watched me, wary, but as I walked away, I heard her shuffling papers and gathering her belongings.  I did not pause in my stride when her office lock clicked and I felt her keeping pace beside me.

Resting my hand at the small of her back, I ushered her along amid her colleagues’ glances.  My skin burned.  Not even the thoughts of her being a political problem, a traitor and the biggest wrench in my plans, kept the sensations at bay.

I needed to get this experiment back on neutral ground as soon as possible.

[hannie-dul-set]

[is this an interrogation, or is this a blind date]. “ricky shen. shen quanrui. shim cheonye. wow. you have quite the collection of names, mr. shen. which are you most comfortable with?”

you voice echoes against the soundproofed walls of the interrogation room— painted black, dimly lit, exceedingly and uncomfortably cold. you let the police file rest atop your laptop keyboard to adjust the length of your sleeves, but it seems like your junior colleague sitting next to you isn’t all that bothered with the temperature in comparison.

“just ricky, please.”

the current…person of interest doesn’t seem all that bothered either. in fact, for someone being interrogated as a suspect for multiple criminal infractions, he looks awfully calm sitting in front of you from across the table; gaze wandering around as if he’s visiting a tourist attraction, two fingers tap, tap, tapping against the table as if he’s trying to replicate the elevator music humming through his head, and lips pursed into a curious pout as he stares straight into one of the four security cameras in the corner with sparkling eyes.

you feel a nudge from your left. assistant inspector park gunwook seems to be excited to witness his first interrogation. “all right, ricky,” you hum, smiling. “on the ninth of january, from 8:00 to 10:00 p.m.— do you mind walking me through what you did during that time?”

“oh!” ricky exclaims. you feel something spiritual rattle your bones. gunwook’s hands start typing. “january nine...i was at the gym from six to eight, or maybe until eight thirty? oh, and after that i stopped by at artisan— the bakery daehak-ro— and stayed there until nine, i think i’m not really sure..”

“artisan on daehak-ro,” you repeat. gunwook is typing every word exchanged. “i hear their milk bread is very popular.”

“it is! they taste very good.”

every syllable, every stutter. “the ones at boulange are better though,” you say, and you hear the typing stop for a moment. you feel your junior’s eyes on you. “soft. always fresh. served straight from the oven.”

“really?” ricky replies. “i’ve never been there before.”

your face brightens. you beam at him. “then, would you like to join me sometime this—”

a nudge from your left. you turn to see associate inspector park looking at you with a deeply confused and troubled expression. seonbae? his furrowed brows seem to ask. you assure him with a nod, a calm smile, then return your attention to the interrogatee. 

“ahem,” you clear your throat. “moving forward. after visiting the bakery, what did you do in the period between nine and ten?” ricky shen narrates the scene— that afterwards he bought a box of macarons to go then went straight home to watch some dramas. you interrupt him there, eyes scanning your records. “you say you went back to your apartment?”

gunwook copies the conversation onto his screen. “um, yes. i think so.”

“but according to a classmate of yours, miss shen xiaoting, she saw you walking along the sidewalk in hyewa-ro at around nine-forty-five, ricky.” your gaze flits back up to him. he blinks at you. he blinks at you with those sparkly, big, brown eyes. you continue to smile. “isn’t that a little too far from your address?”

“oh,” he says. “then she must be right. sorry, i can’t really remember.”

the sound of typing ceases. you feel an expectant gaze drilling into the left side of your cheekbone. you ignore gunwook’s avid enthusiasm at the opening ricky shen just made. you fold your laptop to a close. you bring your elbows to the table and let your chin rest on interlocked hands. 

“that’s okay,” you start. “we all forget things sometimes,” you continue, and this sends your younger colleague into a state of alarm.

“seonbae,” you hear him whisper, rather pressingly. you pretend that you did not.

“can you tell me what your relationship is with miss xiaoting?” you ask. ricky shen continues to sit very politely from across the table “just classmates? friends? maybe she’s your—”

“let’s— let’s take a five minute break!”

before you could even hear a response from ricky, who seemed to have no problems nor reservations in humoring your question, you’re shoveled out of the interrogation room by a very confused, very vexed, very alarmed park gunwook. “seonbae. inspector,” he exasperates. it’s a little hot outside the room. you uncross one of your arms to fan yourself in the face— not for too long because your junior starts to grab onto your shoulders. “please. please get a grip.” 

you look at him. deadpanned. he swallows. “i am getting a grip,” you reply, swatting his hands off your clothes. “getting a firm grip on this man because after years of being single thanks to this god damned job sucking the life out of me, my ideal type is finally being handed to me on a silver platter.”

“seonbae,” gunwook releases a breath. “he’s under investigation for charges of destruction of property and arson. seonbae, he might have burnt someone’s house down.”

“ah. well. i think he’s more cute than hot.” you peek into the one-sided window, showing the scene inside the interrogation room. your suspect is looking around and drumming his fingers against the table again. “there isn’t even probable cause to detain him for tonight. that’s a shame. i’m working overtime too.” 

through the window’s reflection, you could see gunwook’s expression— perplexed, confused, probably wondering how the hell did the scales of criminal justice fall into the hands of someone like you. you press your lips into a smile.

“five minutes over. time to get back to work.”

[sl-ut]

new years eve

more college!abby

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PUBLISHED A WHILE AGO, BUT LIKE I MENTIONED BEFORE, A LOT OF SHIT CAME UP AND DIDN’T LET ME FINISH ANYTHING THAT I’VE BEEN WORKING ON. TYSM FOR YOUR PATIENCE, AND ENJOY!

also tysm to @princesssmars for giving me permission to steal her idea lol ily babe.

pairing: college!abby anderson x fem!reader

description: abby invites y/n on her friends’ annual new years ski trip! five days of uninterrupted fun at a private chalet with abby, her friends, her ex boyfriend, and his current girlfriend who seems to have some kind of vendetta against them both. 

warnings: UNEDITED, smut (not a lot tbh), swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, owen is really mean to reader, homophobia, a lot of sweet little moments between abby and reader

words: 7.4K

date posted: 07/01/24

Y/n knew she wasn’t exactly the most welcome on this trip, they didn’t even try to hide it. The only exception to this would be, of course, Nora, who’d been the one to set her up with Abby in the first place, and Manny, who genuinely seemed like the only one who didn’t seem bothered by her presence at all times. Not wanting to impose on a seemingly very strict tradition, Y/n initially declined her girlfriend’s offer to spend New Years Eve together in Aspen, which didn’t go over as well with Abby as she had expected.

“They don’t mind, really.” She tried to reassure her, only to be met with a knowing look, “Okay, a few of them feel that we shouldn’t bring people outside of our friend group, but think about it; Owen and Mel are both going, Leah is bringing Jordan…” Then came the ultimatum of, “No, if you don’t go, I don’t go.”

The threat was more than what Abby’s words even said. The cabin belonged to Abby’s grandparents, and were more than enthusiastic about their sole grandchild using it with her friends over the holidays, but were stern with the condition that Abby was not to let them go up and destroy it. To summarise, if Abby didn’t go, nobody did, and Y/n was certain that her friends would hate her less if she joined them than if she caused the entire trip to be cancelled.

So there she was on the twenty-ninth of December, tightly belted into the front seat of Abby’s Bronco on the road to Aspen. The drive wasn’t terrible, only a few hours from Abby’s childhood home just outside of Salt Lake city, though Abby made it sort of enjoyable by making a road-trip playlist and barely taking her large hand away from her girlfriend’s thigh throughout the remainder of the journey. 

The chalet was more than Y/n even had the ability to imagine. It looked like it was straight out of a movie; high ceilings, wooden panelling lining the entire interior, large windows looking out over a snow-covered valley, all that was missing was for the pair of them to snuggle up together in front of the wide stone fireplace, which was bound to happen at some point over the holiday. As she ran her fingertips over the glazed butcher block counters, she was thankful that the others wouldn’t be arriving until the next day, giving them more time to fulfil the fantasies that had been racing through her mind since setting foot inside the chalet. 

Abby was eager to give the full tour, looking delightfully in-place in her tight jeans and cream coloured cable knit sweater. She left no room or corner alone, using little anecdotes and stories from her childhood to help her feel more at home, and finishing by explaining exactly how she would fuck her in each and every room. Y/n laughed and brushed it off in the moment, but came to realise that she was dead serious when she could barely move her legs to crawl out of bed the next morning.

The sweet bliss was finally interrupted by the rest of the crew making their arrivals. First came Leah and Jordan, who immediately rushed to the next biggest room and then made their way to the jacuzzi on the deck. Then came Manny and Nora, who couldn’t seem to get to the kitchen fast enough, before finally, Mel and Owen quietly made their way in, offering silent greetings to their friends before going straight to their bedroom, which didn’t seem to bode well with Mel, who’s complaints carried through the entire ventilation system of the house. 

The others seemed to have no patience for their drama, all clearly picking up on the fact that they must have fought the entire drive, as well as the thick tension that filled the room whenever they were both present. Instead, they all gathered in the kitchen for a late lunch and began pouring drinks, loud laughter overwhelming the hushed argument escaping the vent. Y/n was a little surprised to see that even Abby had reached for a second beer, the merriment in the kitchen and the overall excitement for the holiday seeming more important to her in that moment than her otherwise strict fitness regimen, though she really didn’t mind. In fact, she sort of liked the way that she had been looser than she normally would have been, gliding her hands across Y/n’s body without care, laughing along carelessly to jokes that she normally would’ve only chuckled at. She was more open with the group, and made sure to keep Y/n involved in the conversation even when the others talked over top of her. 

The atmosphere felt warm, like they were spending time with their closest family members. Manny showed off his mixology skills, which were mediocre at best, while Nora and Abby whipped up a luxurious rendition of pasta with a side salad, all of which seemed to disappear in a matter of minutes, leaving barely enough for both Mel and Owen to split between themselves once they finally re-emerged from their shared bedroom. 

The sun was beginning to set early, thanks to the shorter days of winter, leaving poor Manny no other option but to wait until morning until he could finally hit the slopes. Instead, he found interest in offering constant refills to everyone in order to, as he put it, boost morale. Abby had taken the initiative to cut herself off, wanting to make sure she still had her wits about her while also being able to relax, and made sure to warn Y/n about Manny’s drinks.

“He calls himself a mixologist,” She’d whispered into her girlfriend’s ear, “But I’d say he’s more of a wizard. He makes drinks so strong, but somehow covers up the taste of the liquor.”

That was the first and final time that Y/n ignored a warning from Abby, soon enough finding herself stumbling out the door in just her bathing suit, ears completely deaf to everyone’s questions of concern for the nearly naked girl in the cold weather as she clambered into the jacuzzi. She grinned, watching as Abby followed closely behind her, along with Manny, Nora, and Leah.

She snuggled up against Abby’s side, relishing in the weight of her thick bicep around her shoulder as she only half-listened to whatever Nora was trying to fill her in on, and babbling on about some nonsense that no one really had much interest in hearing, but they all listened in and responded as if she were telling the most interesting tale to ever exist. 

Once Leah and Nora took over the conversation, she turned to stare up at her girlfriend with glossy eyes, grinning stupidly at the mere sight of her face.

“What?” Abby laughed when she finally took notice.

Y/n shrugged, answering as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Nothing, just thinking about how much I love you.”

Abby’s already flushed cheeks darkened, but she was quick to press a longing kiss to her forehead and return the sentiment lovingly. 

“No,” Y/n frowned, “You don’t understand, I love you. I love how smart you are, I love how you make me laugh, I love how you make me feel loved, I love how you make me feel.”

Abby glanced around at the others to ensure that they weren’t overhearing this intimate conversation. Thankfully, Manny was too wrapped up in making sure that Nora was correctly recounting the time that he successfully hooked up with his TA and bumped his grade up.

“I love your abs, and your big beefy arms.” Y/n continued, leaning her head back against the bulging muscle to emphasise her point, “I love your fingers, too. And of course I love your face, and your pretty eyes, and your nose–God I love your nose, I just wanna sit on it–”

All conversation seemed to stop as the patio door creaked open, all heads turning in surprise to see Owen standing in the doorway, swimming trunks hanging low on his hips and a towel slung over his shoulder. 

“Room for one more?”

Manny was the first to break the silence, “Of course, man. We all thought you guys were just calling it for the night.”

The blond furrowed his brow, “What, you guys really thought you could replace me so easily?”

The words were so obviously aimed at his ex-girlfriend and the girl curled into her side, and if she hadn’t been so intoxicated, this probably would have been enough to send Y/n off the rails when it came to Owen. Instead, Abby took the reins in order to diffuse the situation. 

“Are you gonna get in or are you gonna keep on bitching, Moore?” 

He looked equally as pleased and displeased with her dual-sided tone, both wanting to keep things light while also warning him not to start anything. 

“Yeah, yeah,” He tossed his towel to the side and climbed in, taking a seat next to Leah and directly across from Abby. “Whatever.”

The group sat in silence for a few moments before Y/n finally chimed in, “Where’s Mel? Is she coming down?”

He seemed to be visibly annoyed by either the question or by her, probably both. “She’s upstairs, not feeling too well.”

“Oh,” She nodded along, “That’s too bad, I think she really would’ve liked whatever drink Manny just made me.”

Manny grinned at the credit, “I call it, dulce peligro.”

Nora snorted, “Sweet danger? That’s a little on the nose, even for you, don’t you think?”

“Hey, when you start mixing up drinks like that, then you get a say, ‘kay?”

Owen’s stern tone cut through the playful nature of their bickering, “Not likely. None of us really come up here and get sloshed anymore, I guess we’ve all just matured past that.”

Embarrassment crept up her throat, causing tears to spring into her eyes from his clear disapproval of her current state. Nora and Leah shared an uncomfortable stare, both seemingly ready to grab Abby before she could make a move against him, her disbelief and anger so clear on her face. 

“Well I definitely haven’t,” Manny chuckled awkwardly, “Besides, the holidays are the only time of the year where it's actually encouraged to get shitfaced.”

“Yeah,” Nora jumped in, “The night’s still young, and most of us probably aren’t even gonna remember tonight.”

Their words had obviously been a mere attempt at bringing comfort to the younger girl, whose face betrayed the insecurity that was very rapidly eating away at her drunken confidence from the inside out. Her eyes had become even glossier, and her heaving breaths made it clear that she was on the verge of tears. 

“No,” She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, “He’s right, I think it’s time I put myself to bed.”

Abby grabbed her hand as she stood up, carefully stepping over her girlfriend’s legs and onto the steps that lead out onto the deck, “Hey, hey, don’t go yet. You’re having fun.”

Y/n could tell she was trying to keep her cool, not wanting to put the other three of her friends in the position of hearing her and Owen fighting once again. She shook her head, stepping out onto the pine floor and wrapping herself in the fluffy white robe that Abby had brought out for her, “I’m tired, I might go take a shower and then just go to bed.”

Abby nodded, standing from her own seat and moving to climb out after her, “Alright, I’m gonna hit the hay too, guys.”

“Aww,” Nora whined, “Guys don’t go yet.”

“Stay,” Y/n turned to Abby, offering a weak smile, “I’m just… tired. You don’t have to come to bed yet.”

“Let me walk you up,” She was practically begging at this point, wanting to comfort her girlfriend when she was so obviously upset. 

“C’mon Abs, she’s a big girl. I’m sure she can go to sleep without being tucked in for just one night.”

Abby scowled at him, turning to him with intent as she growled at him, “What the hell is your problem?”

It was true, as bad as Owen usually was when Y/n was around, he was usually only passive aggressive, but now he was just being downright mean. If Abby hadn’t already gone to hell and back trying to convince her friend to let Y/n come (even though she really didn’t give them a choice), Y/n wasn’t about to let the whole vacation be ruined by her pride, choosing to allow Owen’s words to slide rather than biting back as she usually would. 

“Abs, it’s okay,” Y/n tried again. 

“No I don’t think-”

Nora was the next person to step out of the tub, “You know, I’m starting to get a little pruny anyways, so why don’t I help her to bed?”

Abby appeared annoyed at Nora’s intrusion, but allowed her to pull Y/n away from the situation and back into the chalet, leaving Leah and Manny to face the intense staredown between her and Owen before they, too, fled the scene, allowing the real fighting to start.

Hardly an hour had passed since Y/n had curled herself into bed, not even bothering to get herself ready at all aside from removing her bathing suit and snuggling back into the fluffy robe, leaving her surprised when her light sleep was broken by the feeling of the mattress sinking next to her. Abby looked tired, irritation clear on her face as she slumped against the headboard with a quiet sigh. Her eyes softened as she turned to glance at her girlfriend, an apologetic smile crossing her features when their eyes met. 

“Sorry baby, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘S okay,” Y/n’s words were slurred with sleep, “‘M sorry too.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Owen’s just being a…he’s being a stupid prick.”

Y/n pushed herself up, scooching across the mattress to snuggle into her girlfriend’s side as sighing at the comforting weight of her arm around her shoulder, “I know but… I don’t know. I guess I can see why he’s annoyed. I’m not one of you guys, I know how I would feel if one of my friends invited their partners to join our traditions.”

“It’s not even about that, it’s–” she cut herself off, a deep frown cutting into her cheeks, “It’s nothing. Let’s just forget it.” She hugged Y/n tighter to her chest, pressing a long kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Y/n lifted her head, concern filling her at her girlfriend’s tone, “Is something wrong? Did something happen with Owen?”

Abby looked alarmed, “What–No, no. Nothing happened. I promise.”

“Good,” Y/n nuzzled her head back into her shoulder, “‘Cause I’ll kick his ass.”

Abby snorted, “I’m sure you would. Now go back to sleep, I’m gonna go take a shower and I’ll be back.”

Y/n whined, “Are you punishing me or something?”

Abby cocked her head in confusion.

“No invitation?”

A knowing smirk appeared on the blonde’s lips, “I don’t know if you know what you’re asking for here, baby.”

Y/n pushed herself away from Abby, crawling to stand at the foot of the bed as she slowly backed up towards the bathroom, hips swaying seductively as she untied her robe and let it slowly glide down her arms until it hit the floor with a soft thud, leaving her bare for her girlfriend’s viewing pleasure. She bit her lip, fluttering her lashes as she whispered a response, “I think I do.”

Abby grinned, moving faster than Y/n’s brain could even register to race towards her and haul her body over her shoulder as she rushed into the large ensuite. She reached the shower, turning the water on to allow it to heat up for a few moments before she placed her girlfriend onto the marble countertop. 

Y/n’s brain swirled with pleasure as the seconds ticked by, the room slowly heating up as steam curled around the glass wall of the insanely oversized shower, feelings only heightened from the bit of alcohol still in her system and her girlfriend’s hands and lips roaming around her body. 

“Abs,” she gasped out as her fingers massaged her inner thigh, “I think the water’s ready.”

Despite her previous flurry of attention, Abby seemed to have settled down the moment that they set foot in the shower, relishing in the casual intimacy of carefully washing each other’s hair, lathering one another in a foamy vanilla scented body wash, and just holding each other under the hot water. After all was said and done, Abby pulled her back against her chest, one arm wrapping around her waist and the other curling around her shoulders to hold her in place. Y/n leaned her head back, staring up at the taller blonde with droopy eyelids. 

“I love you too.”

“Huh?”

Y/n giggled, “I never said it back earlier, so I am now.”

Abby shook her head, leaning down to press a kiss to her soft lips, “I love you more.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you to the moon and back ten times.”

“Well I love you times infinity!”

“Infinity?” Abby whistled, tightening her arms around her, “Don’t know if I can beat that.”

Scoffing in mock offence, Y/n turned her head to sink her teeth into the meaty bulge of Abby’s bicep, just biting hard enough to leave the faintest of teeth marks in her burning skin.

“Hey!” Abby grunted, twirling her around to face her, “I bring you on this nice vacation, I make you dinner, I drive you around, I rock your world whenever you ask,” her face grew closer with every statement, “And this is the thanks I get?”

Y/n squealed at the feeling of her fingers digging into her sides, leaning up to press their foreheads together, “I suppose you’re right, I’m sorry.” Her hands moved from their places on her biceps, gliding up her slick skin to her neck, then down over her chest, one finding purchase on one of her toned breasts, the other pressing into her firm abdomen, massaging the protruding muscles appreciatively, “Can I make it up to you?”

Abby didn’t respond, instead gripping the back of her head and slamming their lips together, teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, though the fight was over within seconds as Abby forced her girlfriend into submission. She allowed her to press her against the wall, her shorter frame pressing against her so tightly that it would seem they were connected, then seemingly made the move to flip them around until Y/n pulled back.

“Nuh-uh, I’m making it up to you, remember?” Her hand slid even lower, resting against her lower belly just above the thick patch of blonde curls between her legs. 

“Baby, you don’t have to–oh,” Her words came to a halt as her fingers grazed against her clit. 

It was a fight that they had on the regular, Abby always feeling like she had to be on the giving end, and not the receiving. To be quite fair, there was never a time where Abby didn’t finish during sex with Y/n, but she seemed to be determined to only allow it happen either against the harness of her strap or directly against Y/n’s own centre. Hell, they’d been seeing each other for almost two months before she even let Y/n go down on her for the first time. She was a giver, and tended to find pleasure in giving, but was growing to enjoy the aspect of receiving just as much.

“Just let me,” Y/n whispered against the wet skin of her neck, lips pressing against her jugular with an indescribable softness. “Can I? Please?”

After finally receiving the green light, Y/n wasted no time in dropping to her knees, nudging Abby’s feet apart as she slid her hands over her thick thighs, lips and tongue gliding along the trembling muscles until the tip of her nose was met with the coarse hair covering her pubis. 

A soft grunt fell from Abby’s lips at the contact, chuckling at the feeling of her girlfriend’s nose prodding even further inwards, poking at her clit.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Y/n murmured, mouth barely parting from the skin of her inner thigh as she spoke, carefully scooching in closer as Abby complied, even slinging one of her calves over her shoulder to offer better access. “Thank you.”

Abby laughed, “Look at you, on your knees for me and still so polite. Such a good girl.”

Y/n moaned at the words, finally moving her mouth to drag her tongue up the entire length of Abby’s cunt, whining at the taste of Abby’s dripping nectar. She twirled her tongue around her engorged clit, dragging the muscle over the bundle of nerves, encouraged by Abby’s moans and the grip she had on the back of her head. 

“Right there,” The blonde gasped, bucking her hips against her face, pressing her hand even more firmly against the base of her skull. “Yeah, right fucking there. Shit.”

Then the real moaning started. What had begun as muffled grunts had quickly developed into breathy cries of pleasure, the only words falling from her lips being drawn out curses or punchy words of praise. 

Y/n prodded her tongue around the opening of her core, poking inside shallowly, hardly able to slip inside with how tightly she was clenching. Chuckling, Y/n drew her middle finger against the opening, “Relax for me, Abby.”

At her words, the muscles of her core almost immediately relaxed, easily accepting the intrusion of her finger with eagerness, walls clamping down as she added her ring finger. She pulled her face away for a moment, pumping her fingers in and out with precision as her fingertips easily found purchase against the spongy flesh that caused her eyes to roll back in her skull. 

Y/n grinned, pressing her lips against the thigh that had rested over her shoulder. She would never be able to recover from this view that she was so rarely able to see; Abby’s head tilted back, eyes hooded and lips parted as she whimpered out soft praises, small breasts heaving with each breath and her nipples pebbled with arousal. There was something about having somebody so big and strong at her disposal that she simply couldn’t get enough of, knowing that in a simple movement, Abby could have her at her disposal before she could even protest, the idea that someone like Abby, who took such pride in her dominance, was willing to give it up just for her. 

Feeling the tell-tale fluttering of her inner walls, Y/n quickened the pace of her fingers and returned her mouth to its rightful place on her clit, sucking and licking so gently in comparison to the fast pace of her fingers. 

Abby came with a shout, hand forcing Y/n’s face impossibly closer to her core as she continued to pump her fingers, fucking her through the orgasm until she felt her walls slacken. She removed her fingers, and with one last kiss to her inner thigh, she pulled away. Abby moved her leg, reaching down and yanking her girlfriend up to slam their lips together, whimpering at the musky taste of her own cum. 

“God, I’m gonna marry you,” Abby murmured against her mouth, drawing soft giggles from both of them.

“Not if I marry you first.”

Abby rolled her eyes as she reached past Y/n, turning the water off and scooping her up in a single movement, “Everything’s gotta be a competition with you, huh?”

Y/n giggled, hooking her ankles at the base of Abby’s spine and wrapping her arms around her neck, “Well, not everything.”

“Yeah? So you’re not gonna try and fight me when I have my way with you?”

Y/n kissed her again, “As long as you don’t make me wait, I’m impatient.”

Abby tossed her on the mattress, completely unconcerned about the fact that she was still dripping wet from the shower. She crossed the room, opening the top drawer of the dresser and fishing around for a moment before she found her target. Y/n watched in awe as Abby skillfully slid the harness up her legs, tightening it just enough that it wouldn’t slip as she turned, revealing the thick blue dildo hanging from her pelvis. 

“Why don’t you just lay there and be a good girl for me, heh?”

When Y/n woke up the next morning, she was stiff, but who wouldn’t be after being bent in every imaginable position for over an hour? 

It was nearly twelve o’clock by the time her eyes finally cracked open, and she was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that she was alone in the bed. She was dressed in only one of Abby’s lacrosse sweatshirts, and tucked snugly into the blankets and a note set neatly on the pillow next to her own.

Went out to the slopes, be back soon. Love you.

Y/n sighed, tossing the note aside as she glanced around the room, noticing that Abby must have tidied up a bit before she left, everything that had been knocked over or thrown across the room in the early hours of the morning having been set neatly back in place. Y/n would have preferred to stay in bed a while longer, but her throbbing headache demanded that she go downstairs and consume as much coffee and aspirin as possible without needed medical attention (luckily for her, she has a sexy pre-med girlfriend on standby). 

After cleaning herself up some and tidying her hair (and cursing herself for not doing her entire hair routine while it was wet) and sliding a pair of sweatpants up her legs, she shuffled down the wooden staircase to face the few stragglers that stayed behind. 

In the kitchen, she found Nora, who seemed like she had just returned, still dressed in her snowpants as she stood at the kitchen counter stirring her coffee. The dark-haired girl turned her head at the sound of Y/n coming down the stairs, a grin appearing on her face at the sight of the sleepy girl. 

“Morning sunshine!” She chuckled, glancing over at the large grandfather clock quickly,  “You just won me ten bucks, gorgeous. Manny said you’d be out for the count until the afternoon.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows, shaking her head as she made her own cup of coffee and swallowed two tablets of aspirin. She took up one of the tall stools opposite Nora, quickly taking a mouthful of her drink. 

“You come back alone?” 

Nora shrugged, “Yeah, once Abby and Manny start making everything a competition I count myself out.” 

Y/n nodded her head, a knowing smile crossing her features. She, too, has fallen victim to the pissing contests between those two. 

“Was it just you three?”

She pursed her lips, slowly shaking her head, “No, uh, Owen joined kinda last minute. Hey, did Abby tell you anything about last night? Manny said they sort of went after it after we left, but he and Leah kinda made a run for it.”

“No, she didn’t,” Y/n frowned, “She seemed a little worked up when she came to bed, but she didn’t really say much.”

A smirk appeared on Nora’s lips, “Yeah, we all heard how worked up she was.”

The blood drained from Y/n’s face, realisation dawning on her face. She thought she had made some kind of effort to keep herself quiet the night before, but to be fair, she had been intoxicated and Abby had made her come three times with just her tongue before even thinking of putting the strap to work.

“Gotta say, I never pictured Abby being a little freaky, I never even would have imagined some of the shit she was saying to you. It had me blushing.”

Y/n buried her face in her hands, wincing at the burning temperature of her skin. Had they all heard it? She’d been so worried about imposing herself on this trip that she hadn’t even considered the consequences of any alone time that she and Abby would have together. She supposed it was bound to happen; The chalet wasn’t that big, and the vents connected every room together, and even knowing that every other person on the vacation had witnessed their very active and intense sex life, she couldn’t find it within herself to regret it at all. The light purple bruises on her neck were a testimony to the way her night ended, and with Owen around, she would proudly wear them. 

The front door swung open, the entire house immediately being filled with the energetic and boisterously loud voice of Manny, obviously still hyped up from his seemingly long session on the slopes. When his gaze fell on Y/n, he hurriedly glanced down at his watch, scowling as he read the time as 11:59, indicating that he had lost the bet. His disappointment was not long-lasting, however, grinning mischievously and wiggling his brows at her as Abby appeared behind her, arms resting on the counter on either side of her body and caging her in, skin cold to the touch through her thin long-sleeve shirt. 

“Jesus, Abigail,” He whistled, “What did you do to her? The poor girl looks like she got mugged.”

“Fuck off,” The blonde groaned, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend’s head and chuckling as Y/n raised her middle finger in his direction. 

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Manuel.” She hummed, leaning back against Abby’s chest. 

Manny seemed surprised at her bold response, turning to the taller girl with a smirk as he continued to tease them. 

“That’s enough Manny, I already gave her hell for interrupting my beauty sleep,” Nora added, taking a long sip from her mug.

“Please,” Abby rested her chin on the top of Y/n’s head, “I’ve lived with both of you before, I can’t even count how many times I had to sleep with earplugs in.”

Nora shrugged, “What goes around, comes around I suppose.”

Abby’s body stiffened when Owen appeared next to Manny, his blue eyes narrowing in on the pair across the counter. It didn’t surprise her in the least that Owen would be bothered by their late night activities; Abby had once disclosed to her early on in their sexual relationship that she had very little experience in anything beyond the basics. With Owen, things were quite vanilla, and there was little said and there was almost no experimentation, so it would make sense that he felt a bit dejected at the idea that the woman he was still so obviously in love with was now in a much healthier and more adventurous relationship with someone else. 

Abby squeezed Y/n’s shoulders, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “I think I’m gonna go up to the room for a bit, maybe watch a movie and take a nap, if you wanna join me.”

Y/n nodded immediately, excited at the idea of going back to bed, hopping off of the stool and letting Abby lead her upstairs by the hand. 

She curled up in the bed, constructing a nest of pillows and blankets on top of the comforter and tucking herself in under a lighter fleece blanket. Abby appeared out of the bathroom, now dressed in a pair of sweats and a tight-fitting t-shirt, her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. She chuckled when she spotted the structure that had been erected on top of the bed. 

“What movie did you pick?” She asked, carefully climbing in next to her girlfriend and snuggling up against her.”

Y/n glanced up at her, “The Holiday. Thought it was fitting.”

A few minutes into the film, Y/n could hardly even hold her eyes open, rolling over to lay on her belly and nuzzle her face into the crook of Abby’s neck. She glanced up at her girlfriend, admiring the way that the flickering colours from the screen were being projected on her face, light catching on her features and causing her rosy cheeks to glow. Abby turned her head, staring down at her with a fond smile. 

“What?” She asked, fingers gracing Y/n’s cheek softly. 

“Just looking,” She mumbled, “You’re so pretty.”

Abby scoffed, “Says you.”

“Says me,” Y/n agreed, “If anyone else says that, I’ll kill them. Except for your grandmother.”

Abby laughed, “Yes, I would prefer if you didn’t kill Nana, thank you.”

Y/n pressed her lips to the underside of her jaw, “Is everything good between you and Owen?”

“You want everything to be good between us?” Abby raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged, “You know how I feel about Owen, but he’s your friend, and I don’t wanna be the cause of some drama between you if I can help it. Nora said you guys had a fight last night.”

Abby sighed, her arms tightening around her girlfriend’s figure, “I don’t like the way he talks about you. The thing is, when I broke up with him, I was honest with him and he seemed to be okay with it. But since you and I started dating, he seems to be bothered by it. Last night, he was drunk, and he said some pretty nasty stuff about us, mostly about me, honestly.”

“So what, he’s mad that you’ve moved on with someone else, or he’s mad that you’ve moved on with a girl?”

“Not sure,” Abby shook her head, “I don’t–I just wanna move past it. I don’t care what he thinks, and neither should you. If it comes down to you and him, I'm picking you every time.”

Y/n leaned up, nudging Abby’s curved nose with her own before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, “I love you.”

Abby smiled, kissing her again, “I love you too.”

This time, when Y/n woke up, she was still curled tightly against Abby’s chest. She was thankful, smiling softly as she nuzzled closer to her warmth and simply just laid there contentedly until a loud banging sounded from their bedroom door. 

“Wake up, you lazy perras,” Manny shouted through the wooden door, “It’s time to party!”

Y/n had quickly come to realise over the few days at the chalet that Abby’s friends took New Year’s Eve very seriously. Her eyes had grown three sizes at the sight of the mountain of booze that they had all collected to share amongst the group on the one night. Each of them had expressed their excitement for the holiday, even Mel, who had hardly interacted with her the whole time they’d been there. 

It was torture to pull themselves out of the little nest they’d made, but they knew that Manny would be back in a matter of minutes if they weren’t out of bed soon, and he would be much less friendly the second time. Taking a few moments to wake themselves up, both girls finally crawled out of bed and began to get themselves ready for the evening, knowing that Leah, Nora, and Mel would be wanting to take and post pictures from the little party on any social media platform that they could get their hands on.

They were both offered drinks immediately upon entering the kitchen, discovering a large bowl of punch sitting in the middle of the large island, apparently having been a concoction made by Jordan and Manny, which became quite obvious once Y/n took a small drink and discovered that it was probably closer in form to a toxic chemical than any kind of enjoyable beverage, but for the sake of the holiday, she continued to take small sips of the drink, quickly followed up by a much more enjoyable Diet Coke.

They spent the evening playing drinking games, watching movies, and exposing each other’s most embarrassing moments until late in the evening, though Y/n decided to cap herself at the one drink, considering the night she’d had the night before, and instead accepted the edible offered to her by Nora, who had also been put off of liquor by the hangover she’d had that morning. 

Y/n could admit that the small get-together felt much more intimate and enjoyable to her than attending a larger party, as she likely would have done if Abby had not invited her. Even those who did not overly like Y/n seemed glad to have her there, except for Owen, of course. 

Even Mel had entertained some conversations with her and had invited her to jump into some pictures with her and the other girls, the alcohol making her much friendlier than usual. Y/n’s feelings towards Mel were never set in stone. From time to time, she was very nice to her, but the majority of the time, she seemed completely uninterested in her being there. Of course, Y/n could understand it, to a degree; If Abby acted the same way that Owen did when she was around, Y/n would feel the same way, and he apparently hadn’t started acting that way until Y/n came around. 

Y/n couldn’t help but keep a watchful eye on the two figures out on the deck, doing her best to not make it obvious, feeling the need to protect her girlfriend from any more hurt, especially after hearing what sort of things that Owen had said to her the night before. They’d only been out there for about ten minutes after Owen had asked her to talk in private, offering an overly sympathetic look to both Abby and her girlfriend, who’d been reluctant to let her go on her own, especially since he had been drinking quite heavily all evening.

In truth, Owen had immediately apologised for what he’d said the night before, shocking the blonde with his words. Normally, Owen was a proud man, never apologising to anyone unless he knows that it might offer him something in return. 

“Really,” He had cleared his throat, obviously hesitant and uncomfortable, “I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt you, it’s just…You don’t know how hard it’s been.”

“Hard?” Abby repeated, “What’s been so hard for you, Owen?”

He scowled, “Seeing you happy, with someone else–with her.” 

She scoffed, “So it is about her. Tell me, if I was dating another man, would you have this issue?”

“Yes!” He looked appalled, “Seriously–how are you trying to turn this into that sorta thing. You know I’m not like that.”

“Do I?” She pressed, “How many times have I heard you use the f slur in passing, or couldn’t stop staring at two girls holding hands in public? You may not realise it all the time, but you are like that, and I can’t just sit back and let you treat someone I love like that.”

He paused, “You love her?”

She nodded.

“I just–I don’t get it. How can you be…you were never like that with me. We were happy, I thought you loved me.”

Abby stared at him incredulously, “I did. Part of me always will, and you know that, but I’m not sure I was ever in love with you.”

That seemed to set him off, “So I was just…what to you? A plaything? An experiment?”

“Owen,” she growled, “You’re the one who started dating someone else only a week after we broke up, and not just anyone, but Mel. The one person who you always told me not to worry about, that you two were just good friends. Now look at you two, you act like an old married couple.”

“I don’t love Mel.” He stated, like it was a blatantly obvious statement. “I love you.”

Abby laughed, pushing herself away from the railing harshly, “You’re drunk, Owen.”

He grabbed her arm, pulling her back into him before she could stomp away, forcing his lips onto hers in a fury of passion. His hand gripped the back of her head, holding her in place as she fought against him. Finally, she sank her teeth into his bottom lip, not relenting until she could taste the iron of his blood and he was forcing her away.

“Fuck!” He swore, reaching up to nurse his bleeding lip, though he was given very little time to recover as Y/n practically flew past Abby and swung her fist into his jaw. He stumbled backwards from the force, flood now running down his chin and neck, “You stupid bitch.”

Abby stepped between the two as he lunged at the shorter of the two girls, shoving him down onto the deck as the others came rushing out after Y/n. She scowled at him, crouching ever so slightly to meet his gaze, “Don’t you ever put your hands on her, or me, ever again.”

She turned to face her girlfriend, hands cradling her now swollen fist and running her thumb over the cracked and bleeding skin over the knuckles, “You okay?”

Y/n lifted her good hand up to swipe at the lip on Abby’s lower lip, tears leaking down her cheeks, “Are you?”

She nodded, pressing her bloody lips to Y/n’s forehead briefly, taking one final look at the man on the floor, who seemed to be in shock and finally realising what he had done, glancing between the two women standing over him, to his friends who all seemed nothing short of disgusted with him, and finally, his girlfriend, who could barely stand to offer him anything more than a fleeting glance. Abby shook her head. She never wanted this, she would have been more than content to keep Owen in her life as a friend, but there was very little that could recover him in her eyes, and she knew that he would never be able to accept her or the woman she loved. She hoped that, at some point in the future, he might come to his senses, but until then, she decided that he would no longer be regarded as one of her best friends, as he previously had been. 

She led her girlfriend back inside, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer before guiding her up the stairs and to their bedroom. Abby pushed her to sit on the edge of the mattress, lowering herself to kneel in front of her. She gingerly pressed the ice to her knuckles, shushing her when she whimpered at the sudden cold.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n whispered, “None of this would’ve happened if I didn’t come on this trip.”

“Stop apologising. It’s no one’s fault but his, for being a homophobic prick, and my own, for putting up with it for so long.”

It was quiet for a moment before a giggle escaped from Y/n’s lips, “I told you I would kick someone’s ass for you.”

“That’s really all you got out of this?” Abby laughed, her radiant smile breaking through her otherwise stony expression.

“That,” Y/n leaned down, “And that I love you.”

“I thought you already knew that.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “I did, but this was my proof that I wasn’t joking about it.”

She leaned down, hands cupping Abby’s defined jaw in her hands, holding her just as softly as one might hold a newborn as she pressed a kiss to her lips. When she pulled back, she glanced at the alarm clock on the dresser, smirking as she pressed another kiss to her lips and mumbled against her.

“Happy New Year, baby.”

[katakaluptastrophy]

"I’ve already pretty much revealed that Alecto begins with the descent of Christ into Hades." - Tamsyn Muir

That's right...it's time for more Bible study for fans of weird queer necromancers!

It's currently Holy Week, the week where Western liturgical Christians reenact the events of Jesus' death and resurrection in real time. And today, it's Holy Saturday. So Jesus died on the cross on Good Friday. He rises from the dead on Easter Sunday. But what happened in between? His body lay in the tomb...but his spirit was otherwise preoccupied. Because on Holy Saturday, Jesus went to Hell.

But why would Jesus go to Hell? Because the resurrection was not just about saving the people who came after it - it was a bit more...wibbly wobbly, timey wimey.

To be a bit more specific, he didn't visit Hell Hell. The place Jesus visited isn't Hell in the sense of eternal punishment of the damned, but Hades or Sheol or the Underworld or Limbo - a place for those who were mostly good but lived before Jesus' resurrection had made salvation possible. So before his resurrection, Jesus went to make that salvation retroactive. Particularly, according to tradition, to major figures from the Old Testament, including Adam and Eve.

So Nona the Ninth ended with Harrow walking off into the River in search of theological truth. And Alecto the Ninth apparently begins with Harrow in Hell:

Alecto the Ninth, ACT ONE HARROW IN HELL CHAPTER 1 At a point in the slit she was carving through life, Harrowhark Nonagesimus woke to find herself lost in a dark wound. She had been walking when it had all gone black– any path ahead or behind was blotted out; now she was here.  - Tamsyn Muir reading at TorCon

This is riffing heavily on the beginning of Dante's Inferno:

"In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost." - Dante Alighieri, Inferno

But lots of people go to Hell. What's so special about Harrow going there? Because the traditional name in English for Jesus' chthonic salvation adventures on Holy Saturday is "the Harrowing of Hell." "Harrow" comes from an Old English word meaning to attack or despoil - a very martial way of expressing the idea of Jesus as the victor over sin and death.

Harrow ended NTN realising that she cannot trust John's account of metaphysics. That she needs to discover the reality for herself. The faith of the Nine Houses and John's own styling as god rests on the foundation of the Resurrection - John is the "ransomer of death, scourge of death, vindicator of death", his power is understood to be absolute: "Let the whole of everywhere entrust themselves to him. Let those across the river pledge beyond the tomb to the adept divine."

And yet even that prayer - "let those across the river..." - introduces doubt. Magnus jumps in to silence Abigail when she expresses her heretical belief in the River beyond, and Harrow herself scoffs that "it has been thousands of years since anybody bothered to believe in the River beyond." Abigail believes that John knows nothing about what exists beyond the River. And what about Hell? In HTN, Ulysses the First is described as "languishing in Hell" after his run-in with a Resurrection Beast. John himself describes the stoma as "the mouth to Hell", "a portal to a place I cannot touch - somewhere I don't fully comprehend, where my power and my authority are utterly meaningless."

In the Book of Revelation - the Bible's account of the end of the world - Jesus holds "the keys of death and Hell". John may have resurrected the dead, but he does not comprehend what is beyond it. Both the destination of the good, the River beyond to which the souls of little Isaac and Jean should have traveled lightly after their short and brutal lives, and the Hell that lies beneath the stoma are outside of his power. He is a few keys short of the full divine bunch. He can manipulate death, but he is not really its master.

And so Harrow walks off into the River to look for something or someone she can call god. Harrow, who shares a name with the defeat of death across time and space. Harrow, who is of the unbroken line of Anastasia. Anastasia was kind to Alecto, who like Eve is the mother of all and like Adam walked on the empty earth with god.

In Orthodox icons, the Harrowing of Hell is depicted with Jesus triumphant, leading Adam and Eve by the hand from their tombs. The traditional term for this image is an anastasis, the Greek term for resurrection. Adam and Eve, whose sin broke the intended shape of reality, are restored to wholeness with god.

How will Harrow answer her questions about god? What really is beyond the stoma and what would it mean to conquer it? What does it look like, metaphysically, to restore the world of The Locked Tomb to wholeness, and what will it cost?

[juiice]

The Locked Tomb Fic Recs (8)

Part 1+ Links

Lots of people dont have time to read a lot of long fiction. so i'm going to make a list of my fave long fics, so you can pick out one to read! (hint: its most of the tag lol)(if your long fic isn’t on here i probably read it so long ago i forgot what happened so i can’t put it on this list until i read it again and that will take forever)

The criteria for this one is any hits any time. The Theme is..

… Double Novel Length! (over 100,000 Words)

Four very different roommate stories!

And They Were (the Worst) Roommates! by anotherpassingfancy Rated: E (yes sex) Finished

It’s her second year at Canaan University, and Gideon is finally coming into her own. She has a full athletic scholarship, best friends Pal and Cam, and a found family with the Pents and Terrible Teens. She shares a locker room with her hot teammate Corona, who even knows her name. 

Gideon is happy.

And then she meets her new roommate, Harrowhark Nonagesimus.

I actually need to reread this one because i dont remember what happens BUT i do remember it was awesome. Read if you want fun college AU (i sure am after finishing this list!)

semi-charmed kinda life By: strangedelight rating: E (sex as plot points) WIP

Gideon asked questions. Harrow surprised her with answers. They reached an agreement; they decided to be smart, to be patient. Gideon made a promise, Harrow gave her one in return. Wait and see.

semi charmed kinda life is like when you finally find a good anime thats NOT about teens.(is that just me? Ok) i love the deep characterization in this one, and the rich setting of the 1990s that’s familiar but not too familiar. and it has my favorite thing in it: cam :) more serious than ATW(TW)R, and not completed, but it's Worth It to get into. And it has art! X/X/X/X/X/X @griddlebait is the author on tumblr idk if hes active but!! awesome fic we love it! Read if you want realistic AUs feat team 69 and gay thoughts.

We Have Always Lived in the Apartment By: labyrinthineRetribution rating: T (gore heavy, id say M) WIP

     It is Harrowhark Nonagesimus' birthday, and it only gets worse from there.

WHALITA is crazy. LR always writes the craziest gideon/harrow ever, i think even more dysfunctional than canon, and it’s great to see them struggle with basic things, like… having a roommate. And not so basic things, like living out a horror movie. This one has some art too X @thatneoncrisis is the authors tumblr. Read if you want to be fucked up, and then abandoned because its not finished yet.

Let's Make The Most of this Beautiful Day (Since We're Together We Might As Well)  By:  br0ken_hands, jpnadia Rated: E (sex as major plot points) Finished

    “Harrow?” Gideon does a double-take and grips on to the nearest solid object for support. The keys on the entryway table give a forlorn jingle at the impact. “Harrowhark Nonagesimus?”

    The wraith stops dead partway down the stairs with her hand on the bannister. “Griddle?” (“Griddle?” asks Cam, incredulously, which is about how Gideon feels about that nickname, too.)

    Palamedes gives them a very narrow look. “Harrow, my undergraduate study partner, Camilla Hect. And you’re Gideon Nav, I presume? I’ve heard about you; it’s a pleasure to meet. I take it you already know my roommate, Harrowhark Nonagesimus?”

    Three best friends unsuitable roommate pairs buy adjoining properties and rip down the fences and have a shared garden. There is a goat.

    This fic does not contain spoilers for Harrow the Ninth.

LMTMOTBD (SWTWMAW) is one hell of an acronym for one hell of a story. Thats probably why it's called 4gfs. these are the types of stories i want to print out and put on my shelf. Fun and sexy, not as serious as SCKL or WHALITA. I love everyones problems in this one. does that make sense? Read if you want smut and found family.

Four Empire Griddleharks

 Cataclysmic Variable Star by: Elldritch Rating: M Finished

A continuation of the Harrow Nova AU from chapter 40 of Harrow the Ninth

     CVS is like its own book. Pretty sure i’ve put this on lists before. I love reverend daughter gideon, and how the canon beats are twisted to fit the altered characters. Harrow nova Is… i'm kissing her and she has killed me. Read if you want more canon adjacent. 

Attack on Ninth by: cmdrskip Rated:E (yes sex) Finished

Failing numerous times to escape the Ninth, Gideon gave up the ghost and settled into her forced servitude. The Emperor made no request for the Houses to attempt the Lyctor Trials. Gideon’s miserable life went on in the Ninth House, plateauing into a tedious rinse and repeat cycle of waiting for the seemingly unattainable sweet release of death. The monotony is broken when someone makes it their mission to murder the Ninth House scion. Somehow this becomes Gideon’s problem.

As if it was a universal rule, Gideon’s pitiful life gets worse in the drill shaft. (Get it? The Ninth is a pit and it sucks- whatever).

AU- Gideon becomes the Ninth's cav and tries to keep Harrow alive, without it killing her first.

This one was pretty good. I love the middle part of gtn when our girls are reluctantly working together. They are a little older in this one than canon, and managed to interact with people, and this has changed them just a bit. Read if you want that sweet enemies to lovers slow burn, and interesting plot to go along with it.

Resurrection By: N1ghtWr1ter Rated: E Finished

The Ninth House needs an heir. A little bit of flesh magic later, and its cavalier primary is set up to provide.

And then the Reverend Daughter manages to *ruin sex.*

 This one is 100,000 words of delicious porn. Read if you want 100,000 words of griddlehark fucking nastey on every surface of the ninth. It also has a 20,000 word unfinished prequel in the same universe, reading not required. 

The Flip Side By: No1fan15 Rated: M Finished

Gideon Nav is alive, resurrected by the King Undying, and she's having a hell of a time.

From a now embarrassingly protective Harrow, to her newly gained powers, to a Ninth House repopulated, shit is going down. With her sword, her wits, and her deeply buried feelings, she fights to keep this new life long enough to ensure her adept is safe. But Harrow's talking to herself, the Emperor is lying to them, and Gideon keeps fumbling every chance at a real conversation with the girl she died for.

Worst of all, the River is calling her back, and she doesn't know how long she can stay afloat.

This one is like an alternate HTN if gideon was immediately resurrected. Kinda similar to attack on ninth,in setting, but less sex. Read if you hated when gideon died and pretended like she was magically resurrected in your head. 

Three Earth AUs.

Yellow Card By: Moonblastbitch Rated: E WIP

Harrowhark had 3 things she would always be grateful for: her two cousins, and her son.

Everything else was…fine. Work? Fine. Dealing with the gossipy PTA moms? Her marriage? Not great, but it was fine.

But her son’s big, ginger soccer coach? That butch is FINE.

  What’s discretion compared to new discoveries? What’s loyalty and faithfulness when you’ve just found exactly where you belong?

Yellow card is immaculate. Read if you want to meet Kevin, and love him. Read if you want some steamy sex.

Ask A Ginger By: Rohad Rating: E  Finished

Of all her gigs, writing advice for a column in a skin magazine is probably Gideon's favorite, though walking Noodle for Cam and Pal is a close second. Even when it brings her within glaring distance of their across-the-hall neighbors. The Nonagesimus sisters. The younger, a little weird but fine. The elder? A pit viper.

At least on the surface.

AAG is so funny and gives that good good gideon POV that i love. Read if you love Gideon.

I Will Not Die For You By:ghost_maiden_of_delphi Rating: M Finished

Gideon Nav is a mid-level enforcer for the Nonagesimus Crime Family, and all she wants is out. Luckily, she has a ticket: if she can ferry the don's daughter, Harrowhark, across the country to a meeting of The Nine Families.

There's only three problems: they can't fly, they can't use any of the Family's resources, and Harrowhark is the last person Gideon wants to spend two weeks trapped in a car with. But now it's up to her, alone, to keep Harrow safe and keep herself from losing it on the long, lonesome road ahead.

Read if you love… i'm running out of taglines. It's mafia, guys. Read it. 

+ One Non Griddlehark Adventure

Everything Goes On By: cato_universe Rated: E Finished

In a different time and place, Mercymorn remembers.

or

2,000 years later the Lyctors are born again, to finally get it right.

This one is wild. This one’s not about our main cast at all and instead follows mercy, in another life. I really like it, it’s refreshing to follow her for so long. Read if you want something thats not griddlehark. Gideon is just barely in this one.

OK, if youve made it this far, congratulations! and goodbye.

[violeta223]

You're a Bridgerton, I presume? [Female Reader Insert] Ch. 2

This story and title were inspired by the 'You're the Ninth Bridgerton, I Presume?' playlist by Sonder on YouTube.

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Exiting the house in a rush with your family, servants, and all the noise, you barely noticed the Featherington Family exiting their home, only giving them a glance and well wishes to Penelope. You could not tell where everyone was, only Daphne. Most everyone circled her, rearranging her tiara and adjusting her hair and gloves while one of the maids held her train. You wanted to help but didn’t want to make a mistake or accidentally overwhelm your sister; you only stuck by her side, more like beside the head maid who was adjusting her hair, as a sign of support, ready to help if she called to you. As your sisters and mother climb into the carriage, with your mother and Daphne entering last, you couldn’t help but feel slightly anxious for her—not wanting your shoes to touch her train accidentally and for her introduction to the queen or why your mother looked slightly peeved when she entered the carriage but returned to smiling when she saw you looking at her, or where on earth Anthony was. While Daphne looked a bit nervous, she still looked confident and ready. You don’t know how she made it look easy, even though you knew of the years she prepared for this moment; she made it look effortless, and she would make it look effortless; you just knew it. That’s why you thought it best not to voice your worries; while you did not have confidence in yourself, you did in your sister. Unfortunately, that confidence did not come with the confidence of a comfortable ride. You were surprised Eloise was not saying something about feeling cramped and how we had not yet gotten a slightly larger carriage after all these years. But when you turned to look at her, you saw her reading something; you think you saw a few names but moved on in case you were invading her privacy. You did not even know where she had picked up the pamphlet. You decided to wait until she told you or someone asked, typically by lovely but nosy Hyacinth, but she was too giddy about seeing the ladies' debut even to notice. Francesca was enjoying her moment of peace.

You looked at Daphne, and as if sensing your stare, she looked up at you with a small smile and softened eyes. You felt yourself giving a small smile back to her, worries slowly fading away and being overturned by pride when you looked at her.

“How are you feeling?” “I’m alright. Anxious as any other debutante, but that is normal. Do not worry for me, [name].” She gently knocked her foot against yours to assure and calm you. You thought it funny that she was calming you down when it should have been the other way around, but she knew you were always more anxious than the rest of the family. Your mother gave a gentle smile at the moment between you and Daphne before speaking. “Yes, do not worry, [name],” she said as she leaned over, touching your hand and the other over Daphne’s. “You have seen how ready Daphne is. She will do exceptionally well.” Then, turning her head to look only at Daphne, “But no matter what happens, know I will always be proud of you,” She moves her head to look at all of us, “All of you.” It made you feel nice, and you could see it did the same with your sisters, except for Eloise, who still focused on reading the pamphlet. When your mother saw this, she couldn’t help but furrow her brows. Not wanting a tense atmosphere to appear, you did what Bridgertons did best: make fun. "Well, after all the practice I've given you, Daphne, I trust you won't be as clumsy as our brothers when they think they’re charming!” Daphne smiled, a knowing glint in her eye as she continued, “Certainly not, with how much practice I’ve had with Your Majesty.” Your other sisters giggled, and your mother began to smile again at what Daphne was referring to.

During Daphne’s practice sessions, Mother thought it was best to recreate what a debut would look like, which meant she needed a queen. Francesca often helped as a stand-in but couldn’t replicate the queen’s commanding presence. Francesca was too gentle for that, while Mother was either too gentle or too afraid to be more specific. Either way, Francesca eventually wanted to return to her music. Hyacinth played the role of the queen for a while; she had the confidence, loved the spotlight, had no problem commanding, and enjoyed anything about the debutantes and royalty. However, she was still a child and often got bored when the rehearsals became too serious for her. So, it was Eloise’s turn—or, she would put it, the new victim. She certainly had no problem speaking her thoughts or giving a poker face, or maybe it was just her off in her thoughts. Her sharp wit often made Daphne laugh and relieved the stress of preparing for the debut. But, as we all suspected, it lasted the shortest with Eloise. She already disliked the idea of the debut, and her frustration toward it led her to make snippy remarks; she was quickly removed from her duty to avoid further tension. That’s when it became your turn. You did not think you could act as the queen; instead, you chose to help Daphne in other ways, like helping her select her dress and hairstyle. Otherwise, you tried to avoid the rehearsals with your studies when they were looking for their new queen. The thought of embarrassing yourself in front of your family was too daunting, even though a part of you knew that your mother nor Daphne would tease you when they saw how anxious you were. That is why, when Eloise saw how you were, she offered herself up for the role because she enjoyed the idea of ordering Daphne around. The temporary replacement was Hycainth’s old plush toy, and while Daphne was doing a good job, not even she could take the plush seriously. That was when you offered yourself before they could ask. Once you saw how funny it was to see Daphne bowing to an animal plush, you decided to read stories about queens and articles about Queen Charlotte. She was certainly something. Regardless, you felt prepared for your role. To the surprise of Daphne and your mother, you were immersed in your role, even with your shaky start. It was the only time you saw Daphne stumble when she witnessed your confidence. You quickly fell out of character, worried about your sister and embarrassed by yourself. She rushed toward you, followed closely by your mother when they showered you with compliments. Word quickly spread around the house about your performance. Everyone teasingly called you “Your Majesty” or quipped, “Move out of the way for her Majesty.” Even Anthony once bowed and called you “Your Majesty,” joking that perhaps you should be the head of the household instead of him.

Your sisters began teasing you in the carriage, and Eloise finally looked up, joining the conversation. She was always ready to make fun of a sibling, and she and your sisters joked, “Oh, I’m sorry I forgot I was in the queen's presence,” or with an exaggerated, “Youurrr Majesty.”

When the teasing began to quiet down, we neared the castle, and everyone except Mother was leaning forward in awe. As the carriage came to a stop, everyone moved out with the help of the footmen. Looking around, you suddenly felt overwhelmed by how large everything was, the sheer number of people, and how much noise there was. You turned around, quickly moving toward Francesca and wrapping your arm around hers. She looked at you, placed a comforting hand atop yours, and gave a reassuring nod and smile. You knew she understood what you were feeling; she was one of the best people to comfort you in moments like this.

As your family paused, waiting for everyone to gather and to move only when Daphne would, you heard her exclaim in surprise, “Anthony! You are here.” You looked over to see a breathless Anthony approach everyone. Finally! You were relieved he was alright and would be at this special moment. You hoped to move closer to him in the castle for a comforting arm. While Francesca provided understanding and comfort, if you wanted to leave, you knew your brother would be there to help, defend you from any whispering voices, and do his best to comfort you even if he didn’t fully understand. You always felt more confident when Anthony was by your side.

“Of course, I’m here, sister. I would never miss such an important day for you and our family,” He replied. Mother hummed with a look that was ready to scold. “No, you would just be late for it.” While Benedict and Colin snickered at their brother being scolded, Anthony and Mother exchanged glances, having a conversation you didn’t understand. Only knowing it was causing tension, you quickly moved close to them, whispering and shaking your head, slightly frantic. Your voice tinged slightly with nerves, worried they would attract negative attention on Daphne’s big day. “Uh... Not the time.” They glanced at you before turning back to the front. Anthony offered his arm to Daphne to hold. “Shall we?” She nodded, and as they began to walk forward, she looked back at you, giving a kind smile to thank you and reassure you of the day ahead.

[chukys-mouthguard]

grand slam thank you ma’am- am34

current mood: an NHL moodboard series

-> auston matthews- baseball player au

-> genre - fluff

Rookie pressures…

When Auston came home from practice without saying a word, you knew something was up. He always came inside to greet you with a kiss and a smile. But today he did neither, heading straight upstairs to shower and have some time to himself.

You never wanted to pry, but it made you nervous not knowing the reason for his mood. After an hour or so, you opted to make the attempt at checking in.

A soft knock on the bedroom door was all you could muster, waiting until you heard Auston softly respond come in. “Hey baby, everything okay at practice?”

Slowly you walked towards him as he sat on the edge of the bed, game film hooked up to the tv as he paused and rewound the videos over and over. He held the remote to his lips as his eyes followed his frame across the screen. A notebook and pen sat on the mattress next to him, notes scrawled across the page of what you assumed were his critiques of himself.

“Baby…talk to me.”

As you knelt on the bed and began to rub his shoulders, a sigh left his lips as he paused the video, tossing the remote onto the bed.

“They might be sending me back down to the minors. My performance hasn’t been what they’d hoped since calling me up, and they think I need more experience.”

Auston was the rookie this organization had been hoping to snag in the draft for the last several years. He definitely had the skills to be an ace in their lineup on any given night, but he unfortunately had been struggling his last few games.

“I’m sorry Aus, did they say this is a for sure thing?”

“Not yet…I’ve got tomorrow night to prove my worth or else I’m getting sent down.”

Standing up, you moved to step in front of him and take his eyes off the game film for a minute. Hands resting on either side of his face as you brought his attention to you and made sure he was listening.

“Then we are going to watch this film all night if we have to, and make sure you are fully prepared to go out there tomorrow night and ensure you play the game of your life. Because I know you have worked so hard for this spot on the team, and there’s no way you’re getting sent back down.”

Pre-game rituals…

You spent all night watching game film with Auston, making him occasionally take breaks to eat and get his eyes off a screen. The moment had finally come for one of the most important games of his career thus far, and you could sense his nerves all morning.

You tried your best to keep him relaxed and not let his mind fixate on the idea of being sent down, because with Auston that mindset was never productive.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

Auston had started off down the players only tunnel, but you’d stopped him as he’d clearly forgotten about your game day ritual. Though he thought it was silly when the act first started, he’d truly grown to love the moment with you every home game. Never changing the routine despite the outcome of the game.

“Sorry baby, my head is all over the place.”

He softly smiled as he held out his pinky, waiting for you to interlock yours with his. Followed by the two of you pressing your thumbs together, then finally Auston pulling you in for a kiss.

“Love you Aus, this is your game tonight. Play your game baby.”

2 outs, full count, bottom of the ninth…

The game was seemingly out of reach, and despite how amazing Auston had played, he’d not caught any breaks. And now with a full count, bases loaded, and 2 outs; the game was in Auston’s hands.

The script couldn’t have been written any better for him to prove himself, to ensure there was no way he got sent back down to the minors. His body language didn’t give it away, but you knew he was nervous. The fate of his future resting on this swing of the bat. Your heart racing as you watch behind the curtain made by your fingers, not wanting to look but having to in case the best case scenario occurs.

The crowd was hushed, everyone feeling the anticipation building as the pitcher stepped up to throw. As the ball left his hand, your eyes instinctively shut tight. Letting the crowd’s reaction tell you what happened. But with the crack of the bat and the roar of the crowd, your eyes flew open. Watching as the ball flew through the air and didn’t show signs of stopping.

Jumping up and down with the people around you, you watched as the ball finally landed over the wall and in the crowd. Auston jumped up and down as he threw his helmet, the biggest smile on his face as he rounded the bases. Tears streamed down your face as you were screaming at the top of your lungs while Auston pointed up at you in the crowd on the third base line.

You blew him a kiss before pulling out your phone to capture the moment he stepped on home plate, solidifying the win and the greatest night in his career.