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erikatsu · 1 year

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RAINY DAYS + GENSHIN MEN

❍ PAIRINGS: Alhaitham, Dainsleif, Kaveh, Xiao, Cyno + GN!Reader (separate)

❍ WARNINGS: Individual if necessary. SFW, but minors don't follow. this is kinda all over the place.

❍ NOTE: this is my first time writing xiao & cyno. i cannot believe it.

ALHAITHAM

warnings: implied established relationship

If there was one thing Alhaitham hated more than eating from a bowl while trying to read, it was the rain. More specifically, it was going out in it. Today was one of those days, where it couldn't be avoided after leaving work to go home. Even though his walk was short, it still annoyed him every time a drop of water hit his skin.

But, coming home to you made that short walk in the weather worth it. Not that he would voice it out loud, but seeing you tucked into the couch with a blanket around your shoulders and you nose in a book as soon as he walked in brightened his mood. He'll pause for a moment in the doorway, soaking in your appearance before slipping down the hall to get dried off.

Once he changes into some comfier clothes, he'll sit down beside you, gently taking the book from your hands. He makes a face when he realizes its the latest light novel shipped in from Inazuma, which is something he found you reading a lot. While he didn't much care for fantasy, he did suppose exercising the human imagination did have its benefits. Regardless of his opinion, he'd pull you closer in his side and start reading out loud from where you had left off.

His voice compliments the sound of the falling rain, lulling you into a sense of comfort and security, and warmth as you get lost in his sound.

DAINSLEIF

warnings: angst, reader is implied to be royal and no longer around (take that however you want).

The first rain after the fall of was not a beacon of hope to Dainsleif. It was just a reminder that the sun shining after wasn't what he wanted to see. He craved the moon, and it's eternal shine. He craved you, and they way your skin glowed in its light.

The rain brought him back to a time when Khaenri'ah still stood strong in all its glory– a time when you were still around. He could recall countless nights where the two of you would stand in the open halls of the palace, watching and listening to the rain fall. One arm would be wrapped around you, pulling your back into his chest. He'd kiss the top of your head, thankful for the small amount of time he'd gotten to spend with you that day.

It was one of those moments where he'd forget others existed, feeling like it was just the two of you. There was no heirarchy, nothing keeping you two apart. You and him, together, feeling slight mist coming off the downpour while it washed away aftermath of a long day.

Dainsleif used to love the rain. Now, he stood in it— melancholy, cold, and alone. He'd never enjoy the rain again, because all it did now was remind him of what he'd lost. A painful memory of the loss of you.

KAVEH

warnings: established relationship

Your eyelids were heavy as you dragged your gaze over to your boyfriend. His hands are busy moving across a page, eyes darting up every now and then to make sure he was capturing the scene right. You'd been sitting this way for an hour, the rain tapping against the window almost putting you to sleep.

"Sit still, my love," he'd tell you gently. "I'm almost done."

He wasn't, and you knew that. But, once he finished his sketch he'd come sit beside you, and finish his work with charcoal coloring as you watched. This was always how rainy days went. Impeding weather meant no work for him or you, seeing that you both worked outdoors, even if it was in different fields. You'd have the house to yourselves, just relaxing and doing things you enjoyed while in the presence of the other.

Kaveh loved to use you as his muse, although you did like to tease him and say it was torture. But, you couldn't think of anything more endearing than him spending hours on your portrait, capturing how you looked even with a dreary background like the rain. There was a sort of magic in his art, making you glow and look breathtaking against his chosen canvas.

When he was actually finished, he'd put his creation where he kept the others before curling up under the blankets with you. He'd hold you close, placing a light kiss against your forehead as you dozed off in his arms. Both of you finally allowing the soft tapping of water against the window to sing you both to sleep.

XIAO

warnings: reader is scared of thunderstorms/loud noises. can be seen as platonic or romantic

Your nails anxiously tap against the wooden table in the kitchen of Wangshu Inn, hearing the distant thunder even over the sound of Chef Yanxiao bustling about. The man was always kind enough to let you hang around when the weather turned dark and if Xiao wasn't around. The clanking of pots and pans was easier to listen to than heavy rumbling thunder. You knew you probably weren't rational in your fear, but then again most people thought that way. Except for Xiao. He didn't seem to grasp mortal concepts like that, but you couldn't fault him for it.

"Why didn't you call?" His voice came from behind you— soft with a hint of curiosity... or was it disappointment? It was hard to place, but you were leaning more towards disappointment.

You frowned, knowing he'd been out all morning performing his duties despite no longer being tied to his contract. Calling out for him for a childish fear while he vanquished enemies didn't sit right with you, even if he had told you countless times you could reach out whenever you needed to.

He lightly scoffed, walking over to Chef Yanxiao and briefly speaking to him before coming back with a hot cup of tea. You looked up as he held it out to you, giving him a small smile and a "thanks" in response.

"Just because I don't understand some of your emotions, doesn't mean I can't sense your fear," He told you, the usual gentleness present in his tone. "I'll always be here to protect you, even if what you're afraid of can't actually hurt you."

CYNO

warnings: some hurt + comfort , established relationship

A soft sigh passed your lips as you stared out the window, watching as the people outside rushed to seek shelter from the rain. It had been a week since you'd last seen Cyno, the General Mahamatra and your boyfriend. You knew he was out there, just doing his job, but some days were hard. You had been stressed to the max with your research, your advisor constantly riding you about it and its due date. On top of that, you felt lonely. Sure, Collei and Tighnari stopped by for dinner every now and then but it wasn't the same. You missed Cyno, and nobody's presence felt the same as his.

You pressed a finger against the glass, letting it follow a raindrop down to the pane. No distractions you thought of worked, and you'd tried nearly everything to get your mind off him. Just a few more days, you told yourself, holding back tears. Just a few more days and he'll be back home.

You were lost in chasing the raindrops, missing the front door opening and closing. Cyno frowned when he saw you curled up, pillow tightly pressed against your chest. He knew him leaving was hard on you, but he didn't know just how hard until now. He figured now was not the best time to greet you with a classic joke. Instead he took the pillow from you, setting it off to the side before sitting next to you. He placed a soft kiss against your forehead, causing you to turn and bury your face in his chest.

"Thank Kusunali you're back," you told him, voice muffled by the close proximity. "I've had the worst week."

A soft chuckle left him at your change in mood, his arm wrapping around you. He'd missed you and your rants. One thing he admired most about you was your ability to communicate your troubles, knowing it must have been driving you crazy to keep what was bothering you all bottled up. He gently ran his hand up and down your back , "I'm here now. Tell me all about it."

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ironstrange1991 · 6 months

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Starting Over

Paring: Tony!Stark x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Synopsis: Tony Stark is the best friend you can have when you're struggling with depression.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and medications, depression, social isolation, suicidal thoughts (in the fic they appear in some ironic and deprecatives thoughts).

A/N: I'm not going to pretend I wasn't writing about myself in this fic, you're all too smart not to realize that. It's been difficult days, weeks, months and writing this fic has helped me in a way. There is a lot of angst but also some fluff moments. Hope you guys like it.

You were stuck. In life, in love, at work. The whole world seemed to be spinning, running, happening and you were just there, standing, motionless looking through the window, stuck in gravity.

You were depressed. Not just sad or down, but really depressed. After fighting depression for years, taking every type of antidepressant there was and not being able to get out of that state, you simply stopped trying. Depression was part of your personality now and you wore it almost like a battle trophy, a victory flag that you brandished as if to say: I survive.

Surviving became the thing you were best at. A true prodigy when the subject was to endure. You withstood the strong winds of life, endured through each wave of catastrophe, and remained. Even if inside you were falling apart.

To fall apart. What a funny way to say it. To actually fall apart it was necessary that, in principle, you had risen up at some point. That somehow, even if just for a little while, you had managed to let go of that sad and pitiful state, but that wasn't what happened. You never made it out. Once you got close, but the doors closed before you got through them. The sun set before you could finally reach it just like in that Marilyn Manson song. The same song that played on repeat now through your tv speakers as you sat on your couch in your small apartment on a Friday night after getting home from work. Your cat, Sebastian, sleeping lazily next to you on the couch, completely oblivious to your problems. You liked watching him sleep, he calmed you just by existing and you envied his innocence.

God, you hated Fridays. To be honest, there wasn't a day you liked when in fact you hated being alive. But Fridays were oppressive. They were like a reminder that the world was a living, breathing thing where things happened and you were on the outside, never a part of it.

On Fridays you would hear the conversations of your coworkers talking about the parties they were going to, the dates with their crushes, the family dinners, the happy hours with friends. You once heard a colleague saying that weekends are made for enjoying your family and you wondered if you would feel better if you had a family to run to.

All these fruitless and cursed inquiries would arrive on Fridays like an unwanted visitor and weigh on your chest as soon you close the door behind you and contemplate the emptiness of your apartment. Of your life.

I should get another cat. You would think every Friday night and ended up on the couch, like now, with a bottle of wine, a clonazepam pill, and the vain hope that one day maybe things could change or that one day you just wouldn't wake up on the next Saturday morning. The second option would always bring a sadistic smile to your lips.

Flirting with death again, Y/n. Why do you always end up on this couch flirting with death?!

You were distracted by your own thoughts, immersed so deep in them that the very air around you seemed thick and unbreathable when you heard the sound of the doorbell. You froze for a moment scared by the intrusion. The sound, which you weren't at all used to, sent a shiver down your spine.

There was only one person in the world who had access to your apartment, one person in the world who you trusted enough to give your address, your phone number, your friendship. And this person unfortunately had a too busy life to spend time with you. Even if he tried very hard.

However, contrary to everything you knew to be true, when you opened the door, he was the one standing there, dressed in jeans and a hoodie with the hood pulled to hide the majority of his face and a pair of sunglasses, although it was night. Tony Stark.

"What...?" You started to say, but were interrupted.

"Are you going to let me in or am I going to have to stand here and risk being recognized by one of your weird neighbors?"

You opened the door for him to enter and closed it behind you, still amazed that he was there in the first place.

You and Tony met at one of his science fairs. You worked for a technology company and he offered you a scholarship because he was enchanted by one of your creations. The rest was history. Well, in fact the rest was the only real friendship you had or have in your life, not counting the financial help that ensured you continued paying your rent when the company you worked for went bankrupt and you were fired.

"I've sent you at least ten messages all day. And I've tried calling you a thousand times." He ranted looking at you as if looking for something. "I thought you’ve died or worse."

"What could be worse than dying?" You asked, your voice sounding as monotonous as your life.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't respond, returning to where he had left off.

"What I'm trying to say is that I was worried about you. The last time we spoke you didn't seem well and that was two weeks ago."

You sighed, sitting down and he pushed Sebastian to the side so he could sit next to you. The old cat seemed to glare at him before getting off the couch and starting to lick the exact spot where Tony touched him.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry about the messages, I didn't know what to reply and I didn't see the calls because the cell phone is on do not disturb mode."

Tony sighed. "What's going on? Aren't the medicines working? Is there a problem at work?"

You shrugged. "Same as always. And I'm not taking medication, you'd know that if you read my latest messages, which you haven't done in the last week."

He didn't seem satisfied with your answer. "Why the hell did you stop the meds, Y/n? You just said they were helping!"

You shrugged. "For the first few weeks. Then they stopped working like all the others. Plus, they don't let me cry. It's a strange feeling."

Tony ran a hand over his face. "Isn't this a good thing?"

"Not really. They don't take the sadness away, Tony, they just don't let me cry it away."

He stared at the TV sighing. "I'm sorry I didn't respond to your messages. I was away. I just got back."

You nodded. "Out of the country?"

"Out of the planet." He said with a shrug "Alien threat, long story. The short version is that I was there leading a team and we won. The earth is saved again. I saved your life again, I'll send you the bill later."

You smirked "As far as it's up to me, you don't need to bother anymore."

Tony made a face, analyzing you closely, but didn't say anything.

"Why are you here, Tony? Really. Don't tell me you were just passing by because you have no reason to come to this side of town."

He sighed. "I'm worried about you. I dreamed about you last night. It was bad, really bad. It made me think..."

You frowned, waiting for him to continue, but instead he pulled you into a tight hug like he was afraid of losing you. You were surprised at first, but then you hugged him back and that feeling, the human touch, was enough to make you start crying.

"It’s okay." Tony whispered in your ear. "You can cry. I'm here, now."

And you cried. In a way you hadn't cried in a long time. All the feelings pent up inside your chest seemed to overflow and you felt relief, almost as if you had carried something heavy in your arms for a long time and could finally let go.

When the torrent of tears finally stopped you pulled away hugging your knees and feeling a little embarrassed, but Tony somehow always knew how to deal with every situation in such a natural way. Sometimes you would catch yourself looking at him and thinking how you could be so lucky to have him as a friend. Good things didn't usually happen to you, but Tony was an exception.

"Can we turn this thing off or at least find something decent to listen to?" He said while searching for the remote.

"Anything but your old man bands." You responded finding the strength somewhere to tease him. He rolled his eyes, finally finding the remote and turning off the TV.

He made himself comfortable on the couch and leaned his face in his hand, staring at you and simply said it. "I want you to come live with me."

And before you could show any reaction, he continued explaining himself.

You shook your head in disbelief. "Tony, you're not responsible for me. We're friends, that's all."

"I have more rooms available in that tower than I have people living in them. Besides, it would make things a lot easier for me. It's hard to keep an eye on you when you live on the other side of town."

He seemed to completely disagree. "It's what I do. I care about the people I love. Please, just... consider it." He ran his hands over his face again. "This is my way of saying I care about you, Y/n."

You sighed heavily. The idea of no longer needing to pay rent was tempting, but on the other hand, what would you do in that place? You would feel like a fish out of water.

"I don't know, Tony. I'm not your superpowered friends, I have nothing to do there."

He stood up looking around and heading towards the cubicle that was your kitchen, somehow completely ignoring your answer. "Have you had dinner?" He asked rummaging through your fridge and grimacing. "Y/n there's no food in here. It doesn't even look like there's a human being living in this place."

You shrugged. "There's enough."

He opened the freezer, rummaging through the packages of frozen food. "For God's sake, is this what you're feeding on?"

You sighed, slightly irritated by the intrusion. "Tony, fresh food is expensive."

He closed the refrigerator, took out his cell phone and typed quickly. "Well, I guess we'll go for pizza tonight. Do you like Pepperoni?"

You weren't hungry, but you nodded anyway, knowing there was no point in arguing with him. Tony might be the smartest person you knew, but he was as stubborn as a mule.

He sat back down next to you. "If you need money just tell me."

You rolled your lips. The idea of asking Tony for money was always in the back of your head, but since you got your job you stopped accepting his help and didn’t want to give in to the temptation again. "I don't want to overstep the boundaries of our friendship. Besides, that would put me again in an uncomfortable position, Tony..."

"Then come work for me. Okay, sorted. I need someone with your skills..."

You rolled your eyes "Do you need someone to create software for you?"

He smirked, "Okay, you got me. But, we can think of something."

You sighed, the corners of your mouth turning up in a smile. Tony was so sweet, you could see an herculean effort from him to make you feel better and it was definitely the most amazing thing anyone had ever done for you.

"I would like to quit my job. It’s a shit job." You admitted staring at your hands. "… and I hate that place. I hate those people."

"Is there any person in the world that you don't hate?" He teased.

You smirked, "You're not so bad."

He grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. You snuggled feeling the pleasant warmth of his body and laid your head on his shoulder.

"In fact, I think you're the only person in the world I don't hate."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "I'll take that as a compliment."

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah, as you should.”

He looked at his cell phone's display for a moment and then informed. "Pizza in 20 minutes." He grabbed the TV remote and turned it on again, this time looking for something to watch. He went through the streaming catalogs – from which he was paying for - and ended up deciding on a random horror movie.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes watching the opening scenes of The Nun. The silence, however, was not the uncomfortable kind, the kind that you need to fill with anything because the situation starts to get messy and strange. In fact, there was a certain comfort in being next to Tony, the intimacy that existed between you was something comforting and even cuddling with him on the couch, your head lying lazily on his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his waist, his arm resting affectionately on your shoulders, you felt completely at ease and carefree because you knew it was completely platonic. Tony had Pepper and you had simply given up on having a man in your life. Romantically speaking.

"How are things at home?" You asked, breaking the silence. "With Pepper and Morgan."

"Very good. Pepper has been taking care of the company and so she's been traveling a lot, but we're doing great. Morgan is doing really well in school. I think I've done well in life."

You smiled, genuinely happy for him. "Does she know you're here?"

He nodded, but you pushed a little harder.

"What does she think about me?"

"She knows what I tell her. She doesn't care about our friendship, if that's what you're asking."

You nodded, getting distracted by a particularly scary scene in the movie.

"She agreed to you coming and living with us." He said proudly.

You looked at him in surprise. "Seriously?"

"She also warned me that I should offer you a job if I expected you to accept the offer. Pepper knows people, she deals with them better than I do."

You smirked to yourself. "She's an incredible woman. I don't know what she saw in you." You teased tickling his ribs and eliciting giggles from him. You loved the sound of Tony's laughter. It would do you more good than all the anti-depressant pills you've ever taken in your life.

It took about 30 minutes for your pizza to arrive. Obviously, it was you who greeted the pizza guy at the door. Tony was terrified of any of your neighbors finding out he was coming to your house, not only because it could be fodder for the gossip tabloids, but also because it would ruin your privacy.

You put the pizza box on the coffee table and got two cans of soda from the fridge and threw yourself back on the couch.

Sebastian, who had settled into the small loveseat, was now staring at the two of you jealously.

You were surprised by how much you enjoyed your slice of pizza. It was the first thing you were eating that day, but you were sure that what made everything feel so special was the company. Any food, no matter how tasty it was, seemed tasteless in your mouth when you ate it alone sitting on that couch using TV to pretend a non-existent company.

"I could use an assistant." Tony said finishing his soda and looking at you waiting for an answer.

You took the last bite from your piece and chewed slowly thinking about what to say. Deep down you wanted to say yes, but rationally you wondered if you weren't crossing a line.

"You'll have your own room, which is bigger than this entire apartment. You'll have a good salary, meet new people, and spend more time with me. Something tells me that would do you good."

You smiled "I wouldn't know where to start. I don't know your work, Tony and I've never worked as a secretary."

"Assistant." He corrected.

"What if I screw up? What if I disappoint you?"

Tony touched your face "The only way you can disappoint me is by not trying. I want what's best for you and we both know that's not continuing to live in this place alone."

Immediately you glanced at Sebastian sleeping peacefully in the loveseat. "Can I take him with me? You know I'm not going anywhere without him."

Tony pretended to think about it. "You know he hates me, right?"

"He doesn't hate you. He's just jealous of me." You corrected him.

Tony smirked "You can take him, but he will have to stay in your room the whole time. It's not safe for him to be loose in the tower."

“Is it safe for me? I mean, with your weird friends there?”

Tony nodded “I’ll be there to protect you from them, don’t worry.”

Tony pulled you into his arms and you finished watching the movie like that, feeling safe in his arms and with a sense that somehow everything would be okay.

You sighed finally surrendering.

"Then the answer is yes."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

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heartfullofleeches · 11 months

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College Student Yan + Slasher Neighbor Reader blurb brainrot- [NSFW here]

[Legal age gap - no age mentioned, lightly suggestive]

A student dreads the new year - stuck yet another year with bullies who've tormented them since adoselnce and zero outliet for their pain. They thought college would be different - a fresh new start, but their parents outright refused to let them move away for school or switch counties as the school chosen was most convenient to them. Sometimes they questioned their parents' love as they often forgot the most simplest things - such as falling to give them a new key when the locks were changed the night prior. Exhausted from another of hell, all they wanted was to drag their broken spirit and body into bed so they could sleep the agony away. Against the warnings of everyone in the area, they walked over to their neighbor's house to see if they could hop their fence. A scarred individual a few years their senior - and the kindest eyes they'd ever seen.

"Nah..... My fence is a little too high for that. You'd just end up hurting yourself more. Come in - it's going to rain soon."

Begrudgingly, they take your offer. The streetwide gossip of your home being a slaughter pen was quickly proven falls as you guided them to a comfortable couch and something to drink. There was still a chance it couldve been posioned, but at this rate they couldn't care less. They were almost disappointed to find a regular punch in their glass when you returned. You never really existed to them before then. You kept your words few and eyes on the rain, but as soon as you asked about their days - the floodgates came crashing down. Dumping as much as they did that day on anyone else would've gotten them in hot water, but all you met their rants with was an affirming nod and a pat on the back once they had cooled down.

"Can't say I was in the exact same boat as you, but I know what it's like to be alone. I don't have the right to tell you to cheer up, but I'm sure things will get better."

You don't know at all what it's like....They leave their bag under your coffee table so tomorrow they have to retrieve it - and their phone the next day. Your house became a home away from home, and you their only friend. You attempt to usher them towards people closer to their ages, but relent in giving them a key to your house for when they needed a place to unwind and you weren't there. They began to have trouble sleeping in their own bed when they couldn't tangle themselves in you blankets while you were away- eventually realizing that behind the curtains they pinned shut was the door to your bedroom window. The only time they could rest was when you came back home- mistaking the blots on your clothes for their fading consciousness.

They spent weeks studying your body from your closet and searching through your belongings to find what they could, but they never learned more than what you revealed. It wasn't fair that you knew their story, but they knew so little about you. They wanted to be your support as much as you were theirs. They hated when you called them kid or said they reminded you of yourself when you were younger - when you weren't more than a decade apart. Why wouldn't you just depend them more-

"I killed someone."

"Back in high-school, some guys who used to tease me thought breaking into my house would be a good prank.... they didn't know I kept a knife under my pillow. It was ruled a as self defense... I'm not telling you to forgive your bullies. I won't tell you to tolerate them either. Please, just don't turn out like me. You're a good kid."

Deep down they always knew....how alike you really were. It was the first time you smiled at them. The first time you cried. For you- they would do anything.

It was around this time their bullies turned a new leaf. In another life they would've rejected their tormentors offers of peace, but for you - they agreed. They hated every second of it. Party life was too hectic and they couldn't handle a drop of the alcohol they were forced to consume. You picked them up from the sight of the road more nights than they could regrettably remember; paying no mind to their drunk pleas for you to stay

!They saw many things at these gatherings. Younger lovers locked in heated passion, the beginnings of drunken night stands. They wondered if you had done such things. They couldn't imagine so consider your past - heart strings tied in twisted glee. Would you both each other's first? How much had you given up with your youth stripped away? You always talk about making sure they don't waste their twenties away but what about you? You weren't that much older than them and could still enjoy everything they were experiencing - and they'd be sure that you would.

Their "friends" introduced them to some pastimes they could do with you, but most - weren't. They stole and defaced public property, using their new member as a lookout. They honestly didn't care much about the crimes other than they took away from time they could've spent with you.... but there was something familiar about this building.

"Run!"

The group runs down the hall in a state of panic and fear; screaming, shirts coveted in blood. The leader staggers behind - a gash through one of those eyes that used to glare at them with such hatred and disgusting, twin wide with the adrenaline coursing through its veins. A shadow creeps from behind, stalking past the bully as they trip over their own feet and towards them. It's too dark, they can't see its face, but that knife.... those eyes....

"shhhhh"

A sharp blade runs the length of their cheek, flesh split on its jagged curve. The cut is deep, bleeding profusely - but the figure lowers its blade once the deed is done. It returns to their bully's side, dragging the whimpering shell away never to be seen alive again. They cup their cheek as the light of dawn bleeds through the windows. It likely needed stitches, but it wasn't enough. Bracing for impact - they face the wall and aim their skull for the solid concrete.

Their first night out of the hospital and they already have to prepare for school the next day. It isn't all bad, considering you were there to pick them up with their parents out of town. With the investigation still going on at your office, you swore to spend your remaining days with them to celebrate their speedy recovery. Their eyes drift off you momentarily to glance down at your cupholder.

"Hey, Y/n? Mind if I use your knife to cut off my wristband?"

"....Nah...."

They grab your pocket knife - heart hammering in their chest at the flare of pain in their chest from its recognizable edge.

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #tw yandere

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silentglassbreak · 3 months

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Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Just having a lovely good time with this. We are getting there, I swear it. 😘 (I promise there’s method to my madness.) Also HEAVILY recommend listening to the chapter song title - especially toward the end of this chapter. Levitate by Sleep Token.

Warnings: No smut today. But I fucking cried writing this chapter, and I hope you do too (I'm so sadistic). Sadness. Graphic descriptions of vomiting and overall being sick. Fluffy, heartache chapter. OH and graphic depictions of violence and blood (in a dream setting, don't stress).

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86 @thisbicc @knivesforapro @diabolicdiatonics

Part 7 - Levitate

At what point do you start drawing lines in the sand? I asked myself that question over and over the past several weeks since the party. Who was fucking with who anymore? I'm certain neither of us really knew the answer.

Mileena was still seeing Justin, our mishap in the bathroom on the 4th being unspoken of again. It never happened. I kept trying to remind myself of that, each time I saw her, the only times our paths crossing being during pick-ups and drop-offs of Addison.

I had fully expected her to become scarce, but to my surprise, she was letting business go on as usual. Even being around more often. Part of me wanted to hope that meant she was slowly inching her way back to me, some undying need inside of her not being capable of keeping a distance. That thought was shut down, however, when Nick mentioned that he was asked to go on a double date with her, Laura, and the Ken doll (my favorite nickname for him).

That came about two weeks after the party, and I just shrugged it off, assuming that meant Mileena had truly forgotten about the bathroom, or was forcing herself to.

Still, she showed up, sometimes spending half an hour or more at the house when dropping off Addie, making small talk with me, once in a while even flirting. It was casual, comfortable, and for some reason, it didn't bother me to know that she was likely fucking that other guy. Something in my gut just told me to be patient. Good things come to those who wait.

So that is exactly what I did. I gave her room to exist, letting myself exist somewhere near her being good enough for me most days. In all honesty, the lack of pushing made some space for a very good friendship that we never gave the chance to grow before. Sure, the attraction was clear, but she started telling me things; things that I didn't get to hear before.

'Nick and Laura are gag-worthy. It's honestly kind of annoying.'

'I'm going to go back to work soon. I got a job offer, but the last two years off have been so heavenly.'

'I miss Washington. We need to take Addie up there to visit Dad.'

She kept throwing that word around. We. I never wanted to bring it up. Never wanted to spook her. Rather, I stood there and listened to her most times, smiling softly at her, loving the way the light filled her eyes when she was excited, or she came in close for a hug whenever she was sad. I took every second. I accepted it graciously, happy to exist.

Today, however, was not a good day. Today, I felt like a bin of hot, rancid, putrid garbage. We were stood in the green room of a venue in Buena Park, getting ready for a pop-up show, when I felt an overwhelming sense of nausea hit me. All day, I had felt off, but had brushed it off as the heat, stress from the show, and exhaustion hitting me all at once. I had slept most of the day, working to get myself out of the funk, trying like hell to prepare for the show, but I couldn't shake it.

Now, feeling my insides threatening to make their way out, my eyes darted around the room frantically, eyes falling on a nearby trash can. I bolted for it, collapsing onto my knees before emptying everything in my stomach into the bin, heaving painfully.

After successfully spitting out the last of the vomit, I sat back on my heels, trying to breathe deeply. My episode had caught Jolly's eye, and he ran over, face cringing at the sight.

"Dude, what the fuck?" I pointed at a stack of napkins on the table behind him, and he handed me a few. I wiped my mouth.

"I don't know, man. I was good, and then I just had to hurl." I was trying to determine if I was done puking, my stomach still rolling around.

"Eat something bad?" Nick had joined us now, hands in his pockets.

"Fuck, man, no idea. I guess." I shrugged, tossing the napkins in the can.

"Do we need to cancel? If so, we need to let Matt know now." Jolly's voice was concerned.

I shook my head. "Nah, I'm good. I just need a minute."

"You sure?" Nick raised a brow at me, and I stood up.

"Yeah. You guys got any gum?"

Four songs. I made it that far. I worked so hard, swallowing all of the saliva building in my mouth, keeping my face even. But as soon as we hit Glass Houses, and I had to start screaming, I had to run off stage, emptying my stomach once again into a trash can off of the side. I had thrown my mic hastily on the stage, making it clear that my abrupt exit wasn't planned.

Jolly, still vigorously playing the music, repeating the same riff, stepped off to the side and gave me a glance. I was kneeling, gagging dryly into the can. I saw him motion for everyone to stop. The music and lights cut sharp, and I leaned my head on the cool rim of the metal can, breathing heavily.

Folio stood over me. "Noah?" I looked up at him.

"I can't. I'm so fucking sorry."

He was shaking his head. "No, bro. You're fucking sick."

My body was covered in a slick, disgusting sweat, but I was still shivering profusely. "I'm freezing, dude."

Folio looked up. "Uh, hang on." He jogged off to the side of the stage, returning with my coat that I had discarded after the first track. "Here."

I stood up and pulled it on, not feeling much relief, my skin screaming as the fabric brushed over it. I took a moment to calm my body before walking back out to the stage, the crowd cheering as I did.

I picked up my discarded microphone and waved. "Well," I put a hand on my hip and huffed a laugh out. "I'm so sorry about that, guys."

The crowd cheered for me, but I was still fighting the feeling of another impending puking spell.

"So, I think I'm sick." I chuckled, and I saw the guys shaking their heads, smiling. Nick was already taking his bass off, and Jolly was walking over next to me. "I'm so sorry, but I don't think I'll be able to finish the show tonight, folks."

It was met with cries of sadness, and I frowned. "We're so sorry." Jolly's voice came through his own mic. "But we will schedule a make-up show. We've just got to keep this guy away from the gas station sushi."

Nick and Folio laughed with the crowd, but I just gagged, pressing it back down. Jolly slapped me hard on the back, which made me flinch.

"We're going to get this guy into bed, guys. But, before we go, we thank you all for being here!" Jolly hollered, and the crowd cheered.

"And can we give it up for Noah, guys?!" Nick hollered out, causing the venue to erupt. I just gave an embarrassed nod and began stalking off stage, feeling another wave oncoming.

Nick drove me home last night, walking me inside to make sure I got into bed properly. I only managed to get my pants, shoes, and shirt off before I folded into bed.

"Alright, bro, I've set a bowl on the nightstand, in case you don't make it, and I've got a water bottle next to you." But I was already half asleep when he left.

I was awoken to the doorbell going off, and I groaned, my back muscles screaming at me, and my stomach rolling inside me when I swung my legs off the bed. My head pounded hard at the sensation of sitting up. I felt truly horrific.

I stepped downstairs slowly, my body aching with each drop of my feet. I rubbed at my eyes against the sunlight, opening the front door.

Mileena stood in front of me, grocery bags in hand, and staring brightly at me, her faced etched with worry.

My eyes widened when I realized. "Oh, fuck! It's Sunday!"

She shook her head. "Oh no, I didn't bring Addie. I didn't want to risk giving her the plague."

I rolled my eyes as she walked past me into the house, closing the door behind her. "Then why are you here? Don't you not want to get it?"

She waved me off, heading for the kitchen. "I'll be fine."

She was back after a second, and I hadn't moved from where I stood by the door, focusing on staying upright as the room started to spin. Her eyes examined my face, a look of sympathy on hers.

"Oh Noah," She rubbed a hand on my shoulder. "you look like shit."

I smirked, my eyes nearly closed. "Thank you for noticing, I feel like it too."

I yawned, stopping it short when I felt as though I may gag again.

"How'd you know I was sick?"

"Nick called Laura last night. Told us about the show. I almost came over then, but Nick said you knocked out pretty quick."

I opened my eyes, then, giving her an inquisitive look. "So, you're here because...?"

She huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "To make sure you don't die?"

Leena was trying so hard to be convincing, but I still smiled playfully at her. "Oh sure. You're just here cause you couldn't stand the thought of not seeing me."

She rolled her eyes at me, smacking a hand gently on my chest, which made me whine, rubbing the spot. My skin was so sensitive.

I saw her face flinch, realizing I was tender. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry." Her fingers rubbed the spot she hit, but I wiggled away, the contact uncomfortable.

She then pressed her palm to my chest, scrunching her brows. "Jesus, Noah." Mileena grabbed my face and pulled me down, pressing her lips to my forehead - something she always did when checking for a temperature. "Fuck Noah! You're burning up!"

Scurrying into the kitchen, then back to me in a flash, she had the thermometer in her hand, brushing it across my forehead. Everything was happening in slow motion for me, the room still threatening to turn on it's side at any given moment.

"Fuck! 104.9 degrees!" I just nodded dryly, not fazed. "Noah, you may need to go to a doctor."

I groaned, walking over to the couch and sitting slowly. "I just want to sleep."

She followed me, pulling my legs up to stretch on the couch. Her hands grabbed the blanket I kept on the back of it, stretching it out over me. "Fine, but I'm staying with you a while. I don't like that fever."

I scoffed. "I'm not too fond of it, myself."

She grabbed the remote and turned the television on. "What do you want to watch?"

I moaned, absolutely suffering. "Don't care. Whatever you want."

She took up space on the other end of the sectional, tucking her feet underneath her and scanning to Hulu.

"Just nothing about food." I felt my face begin to turn green, and she noticed. She ran to the bathroom, grabbing the trash and placing it near my head on the floor. "Thanks, babe."

I watched her still, glancing at me, wanting to correct me. It was a reflex that I hadn't meant to say, but in my current state, I couldn't find the willpower to care.

She must've known, because she just turned up her lips, and softened her eyes. "Of course."

I let my eyes fall closed, my head calming while I heard the opening to Grey's Anatomy play.

I woke up to a lurch in my stomach, my eyes flying open, and my hand instinctively grabbing the trash, retching hard into it. Not much had come out, mostly bile, as I hadn't held down anything for about thirty-six hours. I opened my eyes, bleary with involuntary tears, and saw the end of the couch empty, but the TV still playing.

"Oh, Noah!" Her feet tapped the floor softly as she ran into the living room.

She circled the coffee table, and sat next to me on the couch, her hand rubbing small circles on my back. Setting the can down, I leaned back on the couch, fighting to get air in my lungs.

"What the fuck?" I grit through my teeth. Her hand was now on top of mine, her thumb massaging into the tattoos on my skin.

"I know. Must be a bad bug."

I leaned down, grabbing the edges of the bag in the can, preparing to get rid of it. Her hands came in, shooing mine away.

"I'll get this. Go brush your teeth."

I stood, running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair, and realized I was still in just my boxers. It hadn't even occurred to me, too sick to realize how gross I must look.

"Sorry you have to see me like this."

She snorted, tying the bag up. "Noah, you watched me give birth. I think we're okay."

I smiled at her tiredly. "You don't have to stay. What about Addie?"

She walked to the front door, slipping on my slides so she could walk outside to the can. "Uncle Jolly and Uncle Folio took her out for the day. Laura told me to stay as long as you need."

I was sick, exhausted, and half-dead, but I couldn't help what came tumbling out of me.

"And what if I never let you leave?"

Her hand hovered over the door knob, her neck twisting so she could look at me, a sad expression on her face. "Go brush your teeth. Your breath is rank."

I smiled. It wasn't a 'no' or a 'shut up', so it was progress.

"I think I'm going to shower, actually."

She just nodded before disappearing outside to dispose of the garbage.

I climbed the stairs carefully, lightheaded. I walked straight into the bathroom, turning the water to scalding, and stripped off my underwear. I glanced in the mirror, cringing at the sight. My eyes held dark, grey circles around them, my hair was visibly greasy, and my lips were pale and chapped.

Real sexy, Sebastian.

While I waited for the water to get hot enough to melt my skin, I brushed my teeth, working hard not to gag again. Once I spit the last of the toothpaste out, I stepped into the hot water and took a moment to adjust. I had a feeling my fever had broken, as my skin didn't hurt quite so badly.

I took time to scrub my body, letting my body calm as I felt the previous day rinse off of me. I quickly washed my hair, not even bothering with conditioning or anything extra. Then, I just stood there, letting the warm water wash over my back, my forehead leaning against the cool tile, zoning out while I breathed deeply.

"Hey." I heard her voice, which I didn't react to. "You alive in there?"

I flipped the handle, turning the water off. My hand grabbed the towel on the hook, pulling it in and wrapping it around my waist before opening the curtain. She stood in the doorway, and I heard her inhale a sharp gasp when her eyes caught me standing, my hair dripping down my face. I flipped it back and eyed her.

"I feel like death."

Her eyes were blown wide, and her lips parted slightly, not responding. Normally, I'd be taking full advantage of the moment. However, I was sure my stomach couldn't handle any sudden movents.

"I, uh," She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "I brought some Zofran. We need to get you to hold something down."

I stepped out of the shower, sighing. "If you think it'll help."

She held a hand out, a small white pill in the palm. I walked over, picking up the tablet and holding it on front of me.

"How do I know you're not drugging me?"

She pursed her lips, smirking. "You don't."

I shrugged nonchalantly, and dry swallowed it.

Standing inches from her, smiling mischievously. "How's my breath?"

Leena grinned earnestly, then. "Better." She lifted a hand to the back of my neck, pulling my forehead down to her lips again. She hummed in approval. "That's better too. Now c'mon," She tugged at my wrist, pulling me out of the bathroom. "let's get you dressed and into bed."

I took note of the sweats, underwear, and t-shirt laid out on the bed. I also noticed the blanket being fresh.

"I changed the sheets for you. They were still damp from you sweating all night. I set up the trash can next to the bed, water on the nightstand. You need to drink it." She was using her Mom voice now, which had me staring at her, amused. "When you're ready to try eating, I've got Saltines, cheese, and a few different soups."

Eyes boring into her, I couldn't help but grin. "I appreciate you, Mileena."

The look on her face told me she was not troubled by any of her efforts. "You know I don't mind." She scanned the room, and began turning around. "I'll let you get dressed."

"Are you leaving?"

She stared at me, her eyes sparkling. "Do you want me to?"

A tinge of red crept up my neck, suddenly shy. "I mean, no?" Breathing out a chuckle, I picked up the underwear, letting the towel drop. Her eyes only flashed down to me for a split second, her throat swallowing hard. "But I get if you need to get back to Addison."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "No," She had her lips held tight together. "I checked in with Laura. Addie's fine. She said I can stay however long."

I nodded. "I've got pants on now." My words were lighthearted, finding humor in the fact that she was trying to preserve my modesty, as if she hadn't seen it all before.

"I figured I'd start disinfecting the living room while you napped."

I sat down hard on the bed, slipping the shirt over my head and wincing, the sensitivity coming back.

"Or, you could watch TV with me."

She stared at me, as if I was insane. "Is that such a good idea?"

I leaned back, pulling myself under the comforter and sinking down into the mattress.

"I mean, if you don't want to catch this crap, I don't blame you."

Sitting next to me on the edge of the bed, she laid a hand on my stomach softly. "I told you I'm not worried about that."

I laughed. "Well, you don't have to worry about me trying to come onto you. I get nauseas just breathing. I couldn't imagine what having sex would do."

She let out a hard cackle, smiling with all of her teeth. It was a nice sight to see, even on the brink of death.

"Well," I could tell she was weighing her options. "I guess it's fine. Mind if I borrow some pants? Jeans aren't exactly comfortable."

I just gestured to the dresser. She knew where to find everything. She slipped a pair of joggers out of the drawer, stepping into the closet to change. After, she came over to the bed, her side, and sat on top of the blankets, pushing her pillow up against the headboard, and flipped the TV on.

"Still no requests?" I just shook my head. She started Supernatural, picking up where her and I had left off on the last season, sitting back and watching the screen intently.

After a few minutes, I rolled onto my side, facing her, in a desperate attempt to ease the hard ache in my diaphragm. My body felt sore from dry heaving and the virus that crept through my veins. Eventually, I grew frustrated with the uneasiness each position had me in, growling.

"Come on." She motioned for me to scoot closer, pulling her legs under the covers and half-laying on the pillow. I moved myself to lay my head on her stomach, arm draped over her middle. Her fingers began running through my hair, nails scraping gently over my scalp the way she knew would have me snoozing quickly.

I buried my nose into her shirt, breathing easily. "Hey Leena?"

"Hmm?" She was into the show, but I still couldn't help myself.

"How would Justin feel about us just cuddling?" I smiled, reminiscing of the first time we cuddled on her couch, two years ago.

She snorted, clearly remembering exactly what I was referring to.

"He'll live. You may not. Priorities."

"So I take priority, huh?" My voice was slightly muffled against her, but I was warm all over thinking about it.

"You're the father of my child, Noah. And my best friend. Of course you do."

My hand squeezed her side in a sad attempt for a hug. She gripped my hair a touch tighter at the root, earning her an appreciative moan from me. So fucking relaxing.

"You should get some sleep."

"Are you and him still...a thing?"

I felt her chest heave. "Is that really a good conversation for right now?"

I raised an eyebrow she couldn't see. "We're best friends, right? Just pretend I'm Laura or something."

She laughed at that. "No can do, babe. Laura's prettier than you."

I waved a finger in the air in front of us. "Nuh-uh."

Her body shook with laughter.

"Ah Noah, insufferable as always."

I could only hum at her, my arm falling back to her side.

"You can tell me, Leena. I won't get mad."

Her voice was careful. "Kind of."

"What does that mean?"

"It means exactly that, Noah. Kind of." She sighed. "I like him, but..." She trailed off.

"But what? He’s not as dreamy as you had originally expected?" I smirked at my words, which came out in my voice.

But her words were somber.

"He's not you."

My face fell, processing what she had said.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Her fingers pet my hair softly now, smoothing it down. "Get some sleep, babe. I'll be here."

Even with the firecrackers exploding inside of my chest, the overwhelming exhaustion was taking over, blurring my vision. Sleep overtook me quickly, my eyes closing while her hands soothed me into oblivion.

"I don't love you, Noah. I don't think I ever did."

"She's never going to be with you again."

I pulled at the metal shackles around my wrists and ankles, screaming at the top of my lungs behind the leather bound around my mouth. My skin burned from all over, unable to breathe in enough air to fight any harder.

"This is how you die, Noah. Alone. No happiness. No dignity. No family. You're pathetic." Leena was stood inches from my face, Justin just behind her, staring wickedly.

"She's mine now, bitch."

The veins in my neck strained as I tried to bite down on the bind in my mouth, my flesh bleeding as I pulled against the steel holding them to the table I laid on.

Justin picked up an instrument off of the tray, a long, razor-like blade that looked medieval.

"You deserve this, Noah. For being such a fucking failure." The laugh that pressed out of her was maniacal, bouncing off the hard walls of the dark room. "Addison will never have to see how fucking sad and horrid her father was."

Justin stepped over to me, using one hand to rip the tank top I wore. I pulled harder as he lowered the blade over my stomach.

He smiled at me. "I hope you didn't pay much for these tats, dude, cause they're about to come off."

My eyes bulged, my chest heaving as I shook my head hysterically.

The blade sunk deep into my skin, a sharp, piercing burning flashing over me as I watched the blood pouring out of me.

My screams were wet and desperate, tears flowing down the sides of my face into my hair. I stared at Mileena, begging her to stop this, but she just smiled at me, her yes dark.

"Oh Noah! You're doing great!" Her words were all venom, and I couldn't breathe now, a weight pressing on my chest. I looked up to see Justin pressing his palm down as he dug the blade in deeper, piercing my organs.

Blood pooled in my throat, and I tried spitting it, only for it to fall back down into my mouth, making me choke.

"Noah!" Mileena clapped, smiling wildly. "C'mon Noah!"

"Noah! Noah, wake up!" I felt my body shaking. "Babe! Wake up, honey!"

I startled, my eyes snapping open, and sat up abruptly. My eyes scanned for the trash can, grabbing it and lifting it into my lap, violently throwing up into the bag. I could feel the tears coming out of eyes, and I lifted my head, my body still shaking with sobs.

"Baby," Her hand was on the back of my neck, her voice calm in my ear. "it's okay. Let it out."

Heaving again, I ejected any stomach contents I had before taking a few deep, hard breaths.

"Done?" After a few seconds, I nodded. "Okay, let me take this."

She grabbed the can and stood off the bed, walking back into the bathroom. Returning with toilet paper in her hand, she tore some and handed it to me to wipe my face.

She crawled into my lap, pulling my face into her chest, as I cried hard.

Usually, I try to be masculine about it, crying quietly, privately. However, I was still so shaken by the nightmare, that I let myself wrap my arms around her, wetting her shirt with my hot tears.

She shushed me, rubbing calming circles on my back until I was able to breathe evenly again.

"Bad dream, huh?" I only nodded in response, unable to speak. "Yeah, fever dreams are the worst."

After several long moments, I shifted so she could scoot off of me, standing and heading into the bathroom, running my toothbrush over my tongue and teeth again, washing the taste of stomach acid out of my mouth.

I came back to the bed, pulling her back into me.

"I'm sorry."

We were laid together, tangled on top of the blankets, and she giggled.

"Don't apologize for having a bad dream. You can't control that."

"It was so bad."

She reached a hand up under my shirt, splaying her fingers out on my chest. "Sounded like it. You started screaming."

"Ugh, I'm sorry."

Rather than lecturing me again for apologizing, she just hummed.

"I've got you, babe."

I noticed Supernatural was still on. "How long was I out?"

"About two hours. I think I dozed off a little, too." She traced my skin with a fingertip. "You think you want to try munching some crackers? You're dry heaving so bad because you don't have anything to throw up."

I sighed hard. "I guess."

Another hour, and I was sitting up on the bed, breaking the crackers into four and taking at least fifteen minutes to eat each one. My stomach didn't like it, but needed it. I had earned a love/hate relationship with a sleeve of Saltines, and that's just fitting for my whole fucking life, isn't it?

Mileena was eating a sandwich she had ordered from her favorite spot, pulling pickle slices off of it and popping them in her mouth. We both watched the screen intently, making odd and end comments about the movie we watched.

"This isn't nearly as good as the first one." She spoke around her bite of food.

I shook my head. "Nah. The first Nun was actually a little creepy." I pointed at the TV. "This one is kind of boring, actually.

"Agreed." Leena popped another pickle in her mouth.

I smirked at her. "I still don't get that. Why not just eat them on the sandwich?"

She stuck her tongue out, a perfect round pickle slice sat in the center, and crossed her eyes at me. I stuck my fingers out to pinch her tongue, but she sucked it back in quickly, giggling at me.

Although my stomach still hurt, and wasn't pleased that I had filled it with six crackers and a half of a water bottle, I felt a slight energy surge, so I didn't want to try falling back asleep yet. Not after my last nap. I shuddered at the thought.

Her eyes fell on me, noticing my shiver. "You want to talk about the dream?"

I shook my head, looking down at the cracker I was breaking. "It's fading anyway."

Mileena raised an eyebrow at me. "Mkay, well you let me know if you change your mind." She turned her attention back to the movie.

"What time do you have to go?"

She stood off the bed, balling up the paper from her sandwich, and tossing it in the trash can. "I called Laura after you woke up, and she told me I was fine to stay over if needed. Addie has been really good today, and tomorrow her and Nick are taking the baby to the aquarium."

Expressionless, I tried not to let the hope swell too much in my chest.

Still, I croaked out. "Slumber party?"

She laughed, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door. "Oh sure! We can paint nails and have a pillow fight!" She hollered from behind the door.

"I'm into it!" I yelled back.

"Yeah, well I'm all yours, then."

I smiled triumphantly. If I had known this was how to keep her around, I would've been licking doorknobs ages ago.

She returned, perching back on the bed. Her eyes glanced over to me comfortably, a smooth smile on her face.

"Leena?" She looked back at me over her shoulder. "Seriously, have you told him you're here?"

Her face fell, her gaze dropping to the remote in her hand. "I haven't."

I huffed, leaning back. "Maybe you shouldn't."

Her eyes looked up at me from under her lashes. "Can I be honest with you, Noah?"

My face twisted into a frown. "I expect nothing less."

She turned completely, facing me, and her legs crossed underneath her.

"I'm not good at this." She gestured between us.

I raised a brow. "What do you mean?" I looked over to the nightstand and down at my crackers. "Being a doctor? Could've fooled me."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "No, dork." She looked back down out her hands. "Being broken up."

My head leaned back against the headboard. "Ah."

"I just," She pressed her lips together. "I miss you. And that makes it so hard, because I know you miss me too. You tell me all the time."

I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest. "I do."

"I want to be with you all the time. I think about it all day, every day."

I wouldn't dare interrupt, despite the increasing surge I had to kiss her, touch her, hold her. Anything.

"I damn near talk myself into coming home every day, Noah." Her eyes were getting wetter, and I just wanted to press my lips to her forehead. "But then I remember. Being alone."

My heart twitched.

"I don't know. Justin is...good." Ouch. Didn't need to know that. "He has a good job. He likes me, so much." She rolled her eyes. "He's good-looking, funny. He likes everyone. He respects the hell out of you." Shocking, truly. The feeling wasn't at all mutual.

"But," Her hands fell flat on the bed, a deep breath filling her. "I don't feel what I do when I'm with you."

My face was curious. "And that is?"

"Alive." She stood up then, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the bed. My eyes followed her every move.

"Noah, I spent a long fucking time just...breathing." She stopped, eyes boring into me. "But then I met you, and I felt like something inside me woke up. Like I had been on autopilot, but then, suddenly, I was driving again. At a hundred miles an hour."

I smirked.

"Even now, after all this time, I feel so drawn to you. Like a magnet, or gravity? Maybe that's the same thing, I have no fucking clue."

"It's not. Continue."

She narrowed her eyes at me, but continued pacing. "Either way. I can't find that feeling with him."

She sat on the bed then, right next to me.

"It's like that feeling of being on a roller coaster, when your blood is on fire, and your heart is racing? But then you get off of it? And everything goes back to normal? Do you know what I mean?"

"I do."

"The second I left your hotel room that night, it was like I stepped off the coaster. And for a while, I loved that. It was relieving, not knowing when it was going to drop. It was nice to know that I finally had control." A tear rolled down her cheek. "But then...I hated it. I felt like I was at a standstill."

I lifted my hand, wiping the tear from her cheek, using the other to rest on her shoulder.

"But every time I saw you," Her voice cracked, wet. "it was like I was awake again; alive."

She shook, a cry breaking through her. I pulled her, then, bringing her in close to me. I held one arm around her body, locking her in close to my chest. My other holding the back of her neck, squeezing gently to comfort her as she cried.

"I got you, Leena." I whispered in her ear. "I'm right here."

Her hands gripped my shirt tight, legs pulled up underneath her.

"Babe," I pulled her up so I could look into her eyes. "I know this is so hard. But it's truly whatever you want. Whenever."

I pulled her back down.

"I'm always here, just for you."

She laughed then, a sarcastic sound. "Noah, I can't ask you to sit around and wait for me to figure my shit out."

"You don't have to."

This made her cry harder, and I squeezed her tight.

"I love you Mileena. More than life itself."

Her voice was strained. "God, I love you so much, Noah." She cried between her words. "I miss you so much it hurts."

I felt my own tears brewing. "I know. I do too." I inhaled hard, trying to hold my own hurt back behind my hard exterior. "Every day. Every moment."

"Can we just pretend for today? Can we just act like nothing ever happened? And be us? Please, I'm so fucking tired. I just need one fucking day." Her hands were pulling at me, desperate to get closer.

I wrapped both arms around her in a tight grip.

"Of course we can, baby." I spoke into her hair. "Anything you want, my love."

#fanfic #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic

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bi-bard · 7 months

Text

Coming Back for You - Toby Nealey Imagine [I Came By]

Title: Coming Back for You

Pairing: Toby Nealey X Reader

Word Count: 2,004 words

Warning(s): **HEY, LOOK HERE!!!** kidnapping, hostage situation, mention of abuse (physical/emotional, but ultimately vague), mute reader

Summary: Toby finds himself in a far more dangerous situation than he ever meant to be involved in. However, he is saved by an unexpected source. Now, he is determined to return the favor.

Author's Note: I meant to write a story about this character a long time ago, and someone just recently reminded me of it, so I figured it was better late than never.

Also, I'm adding lore to Hector's story so that this story makes sense. I'm just gonna ask that you don't question me about it and just let it exist.

Toby Tag List: @dream-this-nightmare-over

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The first thing I heard was a thud on the floor.

At first, I assumed that it was just Hector moving around. But that wouldn't make sense. There was no sound after the thud. Hector always made a point to tell me when he was home. The door would shut and then he would call up to me. Or he would have warned me beforehand that he was bringing home a guest, so I could make myself scarce while he enjoyed his evening.

Once I knew that it wasn't Hector, I walked to the door. I don't know what my plan was. To confirm my suspicions, find a phone so I could call the police, try to plead for help, or simply warn the poor soul that had been unfortunate enough to come in. Maybe it was all of the above. Or maybe I had just gotten so lonely that facing down some burglar felt comforting in a way.

My hand paused on the doorknob. I stared at it.

Hector's words rang in my head: "You are not to leave this room until I come and get you. No matter what."

I had learned better than to not heed his warning. Not that he would ever call it a warning. If I had to guess, then I would say that he probably saw it as an act of protection or love. However, I liked to avoid guessing about him. He never liked when he believed that I was assuming things about him.

I had been a permanent guest in Hector's home for a few years by then. A silent presence. I never knew what I was meant to be in his mind. But I guess at some it didn't truly matter anymore.

I was to the point that I could barely remember a life before him. I just knew that I had one... and that I was never getting it back.

I could still remember the times when I would cry every night, sobbing as I shook. I would beg him to just let me go... or to simply kill me and let me have some peace. He didn't like when I did that. He said it made him feel bad for merely offering me a better life. I don't know if he had truly forgotten that he less offered me this life than he forced me into it or if he was just trying to ignore that he had taken me from my family.

It didn't take long for me to learn that he wanted silence from me. I had trained myself to be silent. Quiet at all times. I communicated in nods and head shakes and pointing and kind, gentle smiles that seemed to quell Hector's anger for the time being. It was just less of a reminder that I wasn't truly who he wanted me to take the place of.

It only took a few more sounds of the creaking floor for me to say hell with the consequences. I opened the door slowly and leaned my head out through the doorway. I couldn't see anything from there.

I slowly walked down the stairs, taking note to avoid the creaking steps. I paused, waiting for some sign of a person. There was nothing.

And then, there was a crash. A distinct sound of someone stumbling over something and then falling.

It was coming from the basement. My heart dropped. I had been avoiding the basement for a long time. It made me think of my crying and my begging. I didn't like being around it.

I quickly opened the door, seeing a man hurrying to stand a few steps away from the bottom.

He looked up at me. I squinted at the feeling of his headlamp shining in my eyes. He had all dark clothes on. He was a stranger. Definitely a stranger.

And he looked scared.

I knew what he had seen. I had seen it too.

My head perked up when I heard the gate opening.

It was as if every reaction after that was instinctual. I never considered myself a hero or anything great, but I found myself focusing on nothing more than getting that man out of the house.

I ran down the few steps between us before grabbing his hand and dragging him upstairs with me.

I was quick, as quiet as ever as I dragged him up the main stairs and up to my room. I pushed him inside and quietly closed the door. I continued shoving him to the window. I pointed at it, trying to get him to go to it.

There was a time when the window was sealed. I had managed to get it undone a long time ago but learned better than to try to get out through it. Pavlov's dog and all that.

"Is he... Is he keeping you here," the man asked.

I didn't have time to answer his questions, I just pushed him again.

"How long have you been here?"

I waved him away.

"(Y/n)! I'm home," Hector called from downstairs.

I panicked, pushing the stranger again. I was silently begging him to go. Save himself.

He finally listened to himself, opening the window and beginning to climb out. He turned around in the windowsill.

"I'm coming back for you," he promised.

"(Y/n)?" Hector called again.

"My name's Toby," the stranger explained. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to figure out why he needed to tell me that. "I'll... I'll be back."

He quickly climbed out of the window. I shoved it closed as soon as I knew that he was out of it completely. I took a deep breath before going to step out into the hall. I walked down the steps, stopping a few steps from the bottom.

"There you are," Hector said. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, furrowing my eyebrows in the hopes of acting like I didn't know why he would be asking.

"Good, good," he muttered. He looked flustered. Worried. He knew that someone had been there. "You can go back to your room."

I nodded again, turning and going back up the stairs.

I let out a shaky breath as soon as my door closed behind me.

Toby was the first person I had seen other than Hector in a very long time. I found myself scared. Terrified. But I couldn't quite figure out what I was scared about. Was it the idea of Hector finding out that I had let some stranger escape after seeing his secret? Or the idea that I may never see Toby again and all that he said about coming back had been a lie? Or was it fear over what life would be like after I finally got out of that house and back to the real world?

I thought that I was going to have time to forget about Toby. I thought it was best to lose the hope early. Some part of me believed that it was going to save me from some pain in the long run.

How foolish of me.

The next night, I heard a noise downstairs again.

And again, I knew it wasn't Hector. He had left for the night. He didn't give me many details, just that he was going out.

I heard the stairs creaking as someone walked up them. Closer and closer to my door. I backed up toward the wall behind me, pressing my hand over my mouth.

It opened slowly.

On the other side of the door was Toby.

My hand fell away as my mouth fell open in shock. He was there. He came back. He was telling me the truth.

"It's okay, it's just me," he held up his hands. "I'm here to get you out."

I furrowed my eyebrows.

He held out his hand. "Come on."

I stared at his hand. There were a million and one ideas going through my mind. I gave up on the idea of being saved a long time ago. I knew the pull that Hector had. I knew the position of power he was in and after so long being in that room... in that house... I just gave up on hoping.

What was I meant to do when someone was finally giving me a chance?

I couldn't get myself to move.

"We don't have much time," Toby said, walking over to me. "We need to hurry. I... I have a place for you. A safe one. We can get you some food and clothes and stuff. And then, we can go to the police and you can explain what happened. Then, the basement gets found and no one else gets hurt."

Wow. He had thought the whole thing through.

"Please... come with me," he pushed one last time, hand outstretched.

I took a deep breath before slowly placing my hand in his. He grinned and started pulling me to the door. I only stopped him long enough for me to pull on some shoes.

After that, Toby dragged me back down the stairs and outside of the house the same way that he had supposedly come in.

After making it through the house and the garden, Toby started running down the road.

I tried to keep up with him, but it had been a long time since I had needed to run any kind of distance. It was also the first time I had truly been outside in years. The cold air made my lungs burn and my legs felt as if they were going numb underneath me.

But then, I felt a smile forming. The first genuine smile I had experienced in so long that I had forgotten it had existed. Along with that smile came tears. Tears of relief as I felt myself finally becoming free again. It was like chains were falling off of my body with every step I took.

I don't know how long we had gone before Toby finally slowed down. I just knew that I didn't recognize anything in the world around me. I continued walking with him, looking around at all of the buildings surrounding me. I never thought about how much the world around me had changed while I wasn't looking. It was overwhelming.

"So, umm... we're gonna stay with my mom. Just until we track down your family," Toby explained. I found my steps slowing down as I watched him. "She... She'll be alright with it once I tell her what's going on."

I stopped completely. Toby was forced to stop when I did because he still had his hand in mine. He furrowed his eyebrows at me.

"What is it?"

I stopped, still unable to form the words that I needed.

"You're safe now. I promise. He's never gonna-"

Toby stopped talking when I stepped forward and hugged him. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, shutting my eyes as firmly as I could. I felt his arms wrapping around me. He kept mumbling that I was safe. That he was going to keep me safe.

"Hey," he muttered. He pulled back, hands touching my upper arms. "We should keep going."

I nodded, letting him reach down and grab my hand again.

We didn't have to sprint away again. Instead, we walked. We walked in a comforting silence.

I took a deep breath. The air was crisp. It was cold against my skin. I never knew how much I would miss a feeling like that until now.

The only part of me that didn't feel the cold of the world around me was my hand. It was warm, Toby's hold on it serving as a protective shield of sorts. There was something about his touch that brought me a sense of peace that I had never known. One that I may not know for a long time after that night when I went to the police.

But I could cherish it for the time being.

And I could love it for the time being.

And that felt like it was good enough for now.

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Navigation Guide

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Some Original Characters

#imagine #fanfiction #x reader #i came by imagine #i came by fanfiction #i came by x reader #toby nealey imagine #toby nealey fanfiction #toby nealey x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfiction #george mackay x reader

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honeybrowne · 1 year

Text

Day 6: Coffee

JOEL MILLER X GN!READER [0.7k]

Content: Tess doesn't exist in this; brief allusion to addiction/drug use; platonic relationship (but they're pining in my head)

Summary: Who would have thought that Joel Miller would know how you like your coffee?

Author's Note: Firstly, thank you to @spacecowboyhotch for being an amazing beta and hyping me up more than I deserve <3 ily. This is my first time writing for Joel, so i'm nervous but would love to hear your thoughts!

Masterlist || FF Masterlist

If there's one thing that's harder than surviving in the world you live in, it's getting sleep.

You were young when the outbreak happened, but not young enough that you don't remember the terror you felt fleeing your hometown and getting separated from your family.

That infamous day is ingrained in your memory—you think about it every day. You think about your parents and your older sister, wondering what had happened to them.

Did they survive outbreak day?

If they did, are they still alive?

Your mind never sleeps, which means that you don't, either.

Coffee is a must have for you; you rely on the much-needed boost from the caffeine, and considering the types of substances that get smuggled into the QZ on a weekly basis, you figure it isn't the worst thing to depend on.

It's only a bad thing when the supply is scarce, or more recently, nonexistent.

The day you'd been dreading and doing your best to avoid had inevitably come. You officially ran out of coffee, and while you're aware of how inconsequential that is in comparison to everything else that's wrong with the world, you can't help but feel a little upset.

Fortunately, your roommate is a smuggler, and can likely get you almost anything you need if you asked him to.

Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to like you.

The smoky and earthy scent of fresh brewed coffee floats through the air of your tiny shared apartment every morning, causing the pounding of your head to increase tenfold. You can feel yourself become more irritable as the days go by, and you're constantly one minor inconvenience away from falling into a puddle of frustrated tears.

It's absolutely miserable and you hate it.

This morning is no exception. Joel is up and going before you can even manage to get out of bed. He isn't necessarily noisy as he prepares his breakfast, but he also doesn't try to be quiet.

A cabinet door slams as you exit your room, and your head throbs.

"Would it kill you to keep it down?" you complain, closing your eyes as you rub at your temples.

He's tempted to remind you that you aren't innocent of slamming doors, and tend to do it more frequently than he does. The words are on the tip of his tongue as he lifts his gaze from the coffee pot in front of him.

The pronounced grimace on your face stops him and it actually makes him feel bad.

You maneuver through the kitchen purely from muscle-memory, considering you haven't bothered to open your eyes yet. When you get close to running into the corner of the island, he instinctively puts his hand over the sharp edge, but he pulls it away before you have the chance to see.

"Made you some."

A mug is in your grasp before you fully register what's going on, a furrow pulling at your brows once the realization hits you.

"You made me coffee?" you ask, having a hard time believing he'd be so giving on his own.

"You ain't very pleasant when you're in withdrawal," he explains.

He's one to talk.

A scoff leaves your lips. "Like you're all sunshine and rainbows when you haven't had your fix."

Joel glares at you the same way he always does, and you hide your amused smile behind the rim of the mug, though the crinkle of your eyes gives you away. The sip you take is tentative, concerned he might be trying to poison you.

Oddly enough, it tastes exactly the same as when you make it yourself... if not better.

"How'd you know how I like my coffee?" you wonder, taking a more generous sample this time, the beverage warming your cold body swiftly.

He doesn't answer, and plates his breakfast instead.

"Do you secretly pay attention to me?" you press with a lopsided grin.

He acknowledges you this time with a scoff of his own. "This world has made me crazy, but not that crazy."

One cup of glorious coffee later and you're feeling significantly better and unusually thankful for your grouchy roommate. The process of getting dressed for the day moves a lot smoother than it has the past week. You feel refreshed, the headache you've been fighting nearly a distant memory.

"D'you grab your gloves?" Joel asks as you follow him out the door.

With your lack of energy and coherency, you'd been particularly forgetful and had left your gloves behind a few times in the last week. He looks a little embarrassed once he realizes what he said, and even more so when you start to tease him.

"Yes, thank you for your concern. Didn't know you had it in you."

"Don't start."

Taglist: @spacecowboyhotch

#doctorstethsfluffyfeb #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller scenario #joel miller imagine #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #.writing

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bemyhyde · 1 year

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Love and unhappiness in one person

(A reminder that unfortunately English is not my invantive language, so I use a translator. Possible errors, ofc)

Laurel Gates x fem!reader

(And her side as Marilyn)

summary: Getting an invitation from Wednesday was a very special experience. Didn't want to be at the school ball for nothing. And now that you was head over heels in the red paint, realized that the only upside to going to that nasty place was... Laurel. And being able to see her now for longer than usual.

(You're her Hyde. Tyler doesn't exist)

Warnings: 18+, mommy kink, dirty talk, orgasm control, age gap (reader is in her 19’s), oral sex, praise, a little humiliation, little bit plot and TOO MANY LETTERS, I CAN'T WRITE LITTLE, HELP

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night was still taking over the city, only the branches of the trees could be heard swaying in time with the wind. The moon shone so brightly that one could see everything in the street without even making an effort. Not far from the town itself you could hear the commotion of teenagers (and not just them) that had started, because of an incident at the school's annual ball. Someone had decided to mess around, so everyone there was now red paint in the face. It was clear from Wednesday and Enid that someone from the Pilgrims had done it. Well, that's very depressing.

But most importantly the plan had been carried out. Eugene has been seriously injured and is sure to fall into a long enough coma. Something inside your heart was gnawing hard, preventing you from quietly accepting the fact of what you had done. Ottinger isn't such a bad person after all. But now you should put those remnants of conscience aside, because need to find Laurel...

Calling this woman Marilyn had her so far was strange enough, perhaps you afraid would inadvertently say her real name and your plan could go to hell. The important thing was that it all worked out, and Addams wasn't spending much time around.

Didn't really want to upset Mommy.

After washing off the blood-red paint and changing into clean clothes, you hurried off to find your master. You couldn't wait to get some encouragement from her. Once in the rather large greenhouse, breathing in the rather humid and clean air, you again plunged into peacefulness. Though, images of the "training" in the cave resurfaced before her eyes and her wrists began to ache.

Attention was distracted from those thoughts by Laurel, who was cursing and cursing every single thing in the world. From head to toe she was covered in paint, even her glasses, which were now lying on the table, were also dirty.

- All the more reason to..." she interrupted her speech, noticing that was not alone. - Oh, sweetheart, you're already here. You've done your job perfectly.

Her tone changed as she began to move a little closer. The smell of paint hit your nose, but that wasn't what drew all your attention. The white clothing clung heavily to her body, making it possible to see things shouldn't have. It seems these ambiguous glances didn't go unnoticed, because a quiet chuckle came to my ears.

- My eyes are above...

The woman let stare at her for a little while longer, and then stepped back as if nothing had happened.

- I'm going to wash this crap off me," Laurel said sullenly, unable to fight her urge to say something unseemly, so she smirked and whispered, "and no, you can't come with me. Sit down and wait.

And in the same instant you felt yourself being as if glued to the chair. Hyde's instincts were kicking in. No, they gave you more or less some kind of freedom, but basically everything your master said had to be done. So no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get up early. And you didn't want to.

This sort of flirting and flirting in your communication had long been ingrained in your speech, which was already considered something commonplace. Something that "should be". You both didn't mind, and Laurel certainly seemed to enjoy it.

After another couple of minutes Laurel herself appeared, continuing to adjust her clothes. All she was wearing now was a shirt, blue trousers, and her favorite red boots. A couple of buttons were undone, revealing a view of her collarbones, again drawing attention.

Was it normal for Hyde to be attracted to his own master? The question clouded your mind and was intensely frightening.

- Honey, do me a favor," she began, stepping closer, "kill the morons who set up this disgusting prank. Just make it look like an accident. We won't use their body parts.

What? Kill for nothing? But why? No, they'd killed Normie before, but the past actions had been for a good cause... And those guys were literally even younger than Wednesday.

Laurel seemed to notice of your doubt as well, so she knelt down and whispered softly:

- Open your legs

Her voice took on an abruptly serious tone, so the order was carried out in the same second. The woman began stroking the inside of her thigh, barely touching the place she wasn't supposed to be touching, eliciting a quiet sigh.

- So, will you do it? You did a great job with Eugene, I think a case like this would be easy.

Despite what other people's hands were doing, your voice of conscience kept ringing in your ears.

- I still don't know... Actually, Eugene was my friend, it makes me sick to think about...

The speech was interrupted by a hard slap that ran down your cheek, causing the place to turn red. There was a coffin-like silence for a moment, and the woman's kind gaze changed to one of displeasure. The place of the blow burned as your breathing quickened.

- I didn't think those rogue bastards outcast would have such a bad effect on you. Don't you dare even blame yourself for that, they deserve it," her hand undid the buttons on shirt, revealing a view of breasts. - It was the outcasts who made you this way, my dear...

Your gaze remained fixed on the naked part of her body, and something began to tug sweetly at her lower abdomen. This woman was certainly bloody beautiful and beautiful, and the slap was no longer perceived as a wake-up call for to something abnormally. More like an action to get brain working again.

Laurel continued to watch as she was literally undressed by the gaze, coveted and worshipped. A predatory smirk touched her lips.

- Do you like it? - Completely undoing the buttons, which were now only in the way, she took off her shirt, smirking defiantly. - You're a good girl today and you deserve a reward.

Your brain began to remember that there had been such 'rewards' before, but limited to kisses on the cheek, at most on the neck, maybe still the master responded calmly to flirting, but not like this...

Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the insolent scrutiny of the her body as Laurel continued to smirk defiantly too, moving closer. Her breath scorched her skin like flames. She seemed to be on edge herself.

- Everyone would be as docile as you, wouldn't they?

She began to deepen the incomprehensible action roughly on the lips. It was impossible to call it a kiss, more like an animal instinct. Full of passion, desire and savagery. Strong hands touched your clothes and tossed them away. The shirt remained in place, but now the pleasant material of the chair felt distinct. Laurel ran a finger gently down your leg, causing goosebumps all over body. Barely touched her clit, gathering the natural lubricant from it, enjoying the moment.

- You're so..." she pulled away from this fascinating activity, dipping a finger into its mouth, beginning to lick it off while watching for a reaction, "sweet. I wish I'd fucked you sooner.

The rudeness and ease in the way she talked about such dirty things... Struck. And quite a lot.

It was definitely not Marilyn Thornhill in front of you now, but the very real Laurel Gates - a your master for whom you'd gladly finish off a couple of tourists, even start seeing Wednesday. And if every praise is like that, you'll do all her bidding always and to the end. Your thoughts was interrupted when someone else's fingers finally slipped inside, starting to move slowly. A loud moan rippled through the room, causing Gates to grin rather happily, speeding up.

- Don't be silent. Make mama happy." She whispered, adding another finger.

- I..." your couldn't speak as the pleasure overtook head, preventing from thinking straight. - I'll do what you asked. Soon... You'll be happy..." another moan escaped my chest. - Please, harder!

Felt with all body that you were about to have a strong orgasm. A few more moments and you thought you were going to die right there from the pleasure, but Laurel stopped and pulled her fingers out at the last moment. The pleasurable sensation cut off at the same moment, leaving an annoying throbbing. Wanting to finally be allowed to cum, you began yanking in place out of desperation, almost whimpering, feeling your gaze burn through.

- What is it, what's wrong? - Laurel spoke in a specially caustic, sort of concerned tone, finding herself between someone else's legs. - Mummy's here. Shh, it's okay," she began to leave gentle kisses on the inside of her thigh while stroking the soft skin with her hands.

- I've done a great job of that. Please, Mommy, let me cum. Please..." your sobs full of pleading rippled through the greenhouse.

The woman reveled in her superiority of the situation, seeing what a "horrible monster terrorising people" you had become while you begging . Now the 'monster' was only sobbing softly, pleading for an orgasm. It looked so beautiful that Laurel couldn't hold back her own groan.

- Just one condition..." she moved her face closer, beginning to touch the exhausted flesh with her tongue. - Don't be silent.

There was no point in her saying anything else, and in a couple of moments the sounds of moaning began to echo throughout the premises, getting louder and louder with each time. The woman did everything slowly, waiting for the command, burning with a look that was sure to imprint itself on the your mind.

- Yes! Yes, please don't stop," you mumbled curtly, noticing that the words weren't having enough effect, so you stopped holding back your expression. - Mommy, please, I'm a filthy slut who leaks with every word you say! I dreamed every day like you... Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Adequate words ran out as Laurel hummed contentedly, speeding up, and her fingers left visible marks on the skin of your thighs, literally squeezing someone else's flesh with their own aesthetic pleasure. The grunts was so perverse and shameless that it was the last straw before your orgasmed. A loud enough "Mommy" escaped lips, and after a few seconds your body literally crumpled in the chair. Everything trembled and throbbed as voice went slightly hoarse.

Laurel halted her actions, standing up slightly, licking her lips seductively, laughing barely audible. A hand lifted your head, revealing a view of someone else's neck. Surprisingly gentle kisses scorched the already burning skin, noting that her pulse was racing.

- Clever girl," the woman said, stretching her vowels.

Suddenly there her was a sudden urge to sit upright on yours lap, which continued to tremble slightly, but because of Hyde's strength you didn't feel heavy or uncomfortable, letting her sit down comfortably. It seemed a huge plus right now.

Laurel was staring with a look that made the goosebumps run up and down your back all too quickly. You wouldn't be surprised if you caught a heart attack right this instant, even the thought flashed through your mind that you were probably just drunk at the ball and catching hallucinations. The thought was brought out by the fact that a your hand was gently placed behind back, a very obvious hint.

- I'd like to cum, too... Would you please me? - The question was rather rhetorical, but you didn't dare refuse.

You felt her breasts pressed against the fabric of your shirt, teasing. A moment later there were dozens of kisses on her skin, you didn't want to leave a single spot unattended. The languid sighs of the master were heard in response, being a delight to the ears. And that wasn't even moaning yet.

Before you knew what was happening, you realized you were already on the floor, and Laurel was staring seductively straight into the remnants of your dark soul.

- Do what obedient girls do," her whisper seemed different, slightly mysterious and pent-up, perhaps frightening. There was nothing left of that kind and sweet teacher mask.

Obediently you found herself between her legs and began the unseemly action, eliciting a loud moan from Gates.

Her fingers were in your hair, lightly stroking it, guiding head where she liked. Unlike what had happened a few minutes ago, Laurel was not at all shy about expressing herself, and this dirty words was even more arousing.

You'd kill anyone for her just to hear her moans bursting out of such beautiful breasts. The faithful and loving monster that everyone who lived near Nevermore and Jericho feared now wished only that this moment would never end.

- Fuck, this is fucking awesome," Laurel muttered quite impolitely and incorrectly, recovering her breath as she sprawled out imposingly in her chair.

A couple of loud breaths and exhales, the clothes put back on, and the woman regained her composure, continuing to stare at the disheveled but contented outcast.

The voice of reason (perhaps of her father) came back to her, ringing in her ears, screaming that she had disgraced their whole family by sleeping with an outcast. By shagging with her outcast. Her own, who was willing to do anything for her.

- Can I..." the question went unanswered, Laurel only nodded, continuing to be immersed in her own thoughts.

Your head was now resting on her master's lap, and her fingers again buried themselves in your hair, this time gently stroking it.

The moonlight, slipping in and out of the premises, was casting an atmosphere, Laurel looked even more beautiful now, especially in her brooding state.

- I love you.

Laurel Gates had become your love, your misfortune, but so close and sinisterly beautiful. You needed her more than anyone else in this world.

Those three unfortunate words brought the woman out of her thoughts, causing her to blink rapidly in surprise.

Her mother would never have approved of that. And Crackstone would have burned her alive long ago, but right now it was just her and her Hyde.

Also, Laurel didn't care.

#christina ricci #laurel gates #marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #laurel gates x reader #wednesday

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aquarii-if · 2 months

Text

Liviana has never cared for birthday gifts.

In her eyes, the best parts of her birthday came from the people she was surrounded with. Even if she never got another gift again, she'd be willing to do anything to spend every birthday surrounded by people she loves. She never wants to be lonely on her birthday.

But despite the thousands of people standing outside right now, she's never felt so alone.

While the day used to be spent laughing with friends and eating the small candy her mom could afford, nowadays, she can’t spend a single second of the day without seeing reminders.

Her eyes trail down to the framed picture on her dresser, four smiling faces look back at her. She feels tears brink on the corner of her eyes as memories come flooding back. Celebration is hard when in the middle of a war, but she remembers her old friends trying their best with what they had. Cakes made out of dirt that they smashed and threw at each other, pretending the gunshots were fireworks, sneaking off to a new area to explore... Sure, it was depressing, knowing that as soon as the day was over they'd turn back to the horrifying reality, but it was nice to just forget for a little while.

Now, as queen, she no longer has to worry about the scary noises and the blood staining her clothes. She gets to spend her birthday surrounded by her citizens and a pile of gifts she once believed only existed in fairytales.

Without the friends she's had since birth.

She shakes her head, looking away from the picture, remembering what Estelle told her after it was over. "They knew what they were doing when they started the revolution. They knew the risks. You knew the risks. It's not your fault, Liviana. They'd hate to see you beating yourself up over this."

Estelle's right, but she can't convince herself to believe it. While she's here celebrating, enjoying her reign as queen, enjoying being alive, they're all stuck in Mahina's realm. The only consolation that they're even the slightest bit happy is promises and reassurances from Mahina herself, a woman who is known to not be trustworthy.

She's interrupted by a loud knock at the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She doesn't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Are you just going to sit here and sulk all day?" Estelle calls out, tapping her fingers on the door frame.

When Liviana doesn't turn around, Estelle groans, bringing a hand up to her face. "Liv, you can't keep doing this. Hiding in your room isn't going to bring them back. I know you're still grieving, but it's not going to get any easier if you don't allow yourself to take a break and feel for once."

Liviana wipes a stray tear from her cheek as she shakes her head. "I can't trust myself to not cry in front of everyone."

Estelle walks over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Then cry."

Liviana meets her eyes. "What?"

"Show them how you feel." Estelle shrugs. "They'll understand, they were there too. They lost people, loved ones, friends... They probably feel the same way you do. You're Mitan, Livi, not a machine, you're allowed to grieve and you're allowed to show that you are grieving. I promise they'll understand, and I'm sure they'd appreciate you reminding them that you do care."

They fall into silence for a moment, listening to the cheering and festivities outside, before Liviana slowly nods. "Yes... You're right. I can be strong, but I'm allowed to feel weak as well."

Liviana turns to the mirror, fixing herself as a small smile appears on her lips. "Let this day of my birth be dedicated to those who cannot celebrate anymore. My friends, my family, my comrades, we shall use this day to remember those who are believed to be forgotten."

#aquarii #liviana #snippet #birthday #this came out more angsty than i expected #i guess that kind of summarizes liviana's character tho #haha

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always-andromeda · 2 years

Text

Nobody Does It Like You Do | Burt Fabelman x fem!Reader

Word Count | 2,723

Summary | When you demand Burt's attention, he gives you far more than you bargained for.

Author’s Note | I promise you all, I’m still working on milestone requests. The Fabelmans trailer has just…it’s destroyed me. All I can think about is him. I don’t even know a thing about him. But I need him to treat me right. I am exposing myself in a way that I never have before on this account. Nobody look at me, nobody talk to me. This one is for all my bitches with daddy issues.

Warnings | smut (MDNI), unprotected sex, dacryphilia, daddy kink (haha what a shocker), literally porn with absolutely zero plot and too many emotions. have fun!!

Positioned on Burt's thigh, it takes everything in you not to give into the urge to shift. God knows you're aching enough. But you keep yourself as collected as possible. How you managed to fall entirely for the only man in the world who would barely even notice that you're only wearing underwear and a worn old sweater, you have no clue.

However, with a man like him...you can't imagine he gets much attention. Not like the attention you're thinking of anyways.

Your fingers play with the edge of his shirt collar. You almost laugh at the silly button up that keep you from truly feeling him. Perched on his lap, you feel close to childish. Begging for just an ounce of his attention. Because you bet that he's soft and pale everywhere; just as plump and flushed like the ripened apples of his cheeks. Those cherubic cheeks you'd love to kiss.

You almost don't even notice that your fingers have wandered to the skin of his neck until he says tersely, "That tickles," and straightens his neck.

Reserving the sound of the chuckle bubbling up in your throat at his stern demeanor, you reply brightly, "Maybe that's the point," and add an impertinent poke to his nose for good measure.

Finally, he looks up at you, spurred by the contact. Golden light from the tableside lamp reflects off of the lenses of his glasses, making his deep green eyes look flecked with stardust.

He couldn't have even been bothered to spare a glance when you first placed yourself there. Merely adjusted so he could sit up a little straighter in the armchair. Knowing him, he probably has no clue how much his ignorance annoys you.

Too engulfed in the novel that rests on his other knee, Burt holds it open with one hand. The other had wrapped around you instinctively. That was the only sign he gave to even acknowledge your pesky existence on his leg. Every once in a while, that hand strains to flip the page of the book and you get to see the time get later and later on his wristwatch. But, still, he kept his arm there. That's how you know you've had some sort of effect on him.

"The point is that I'm trying to read," his voice is smooth and stern. It's cute how he believes that his age gives him any sort of authority over you.

You groan impetuously, "You've been at it for hours. I need attention too sometimes."

"As if I need any reminding..."

Of course he's being stubborn. You roll your eyes. Then you venture a little further, resting your arms around his shoulders. You let your hand comb through his hair; those damned dark locks that he keeps slicked back.

"You're so uptight." you coo, "Why can't you just take a little break?"

"Because with you, a little break is never a little break."

"Does that really sound so bad?" your lips inch closer towards his. You place one chaste kiss right at the corner of his mouth; giving him a glimmering sliver of affection. Then the book closes, no longer capable of captivating his attention nearly as much as you do.

Rain patters on the window outside the little room and wind howling, more than one storm is brewing as you kiss the arches of Burt's high cheekbones and the pert tip of his nose. So close that you can feel the warmth beginning to radiate from him like a furnace, you know that you've convinced him of your perspective.

You grind down deliciously on his thigh with a deep hum, burning through a fraction of the want that's practically overflowing your entire being. Fingers trailing up the line of buttons that run up the middle of his shirt, you slip each one open easily. And as the stark white button up falls open, it reveals more of his unblemished chest.

He's so regimented. As certain as a clock, always on time, always put together. But you need to wind him up. Need to figure out exactly what makes him tick and what will make him chime just for you. Breath hitching in his chest, your hand grazes over the expanses of soft skin. You head south, just beyond the border of his belt. Burt is almost taken aback by the ease in which you work, dismantling his demeanor bit by bit.

Driven mad by tension, he manages to kiss you back. He barely seems to know how to keep up, despite the languid pace. This sort of sincerity is foreign for him. It's been years since he's gotten more than a quick peck on the lips that sends him on his way.

His strong hands embrace the sides of your body. And you wonder for a moment whether you're possibly made of some sort of machinery too. Because that presses some button inside you and it releases a trickle of tears rolling down your cheeks. Burt tastes the salt as they make their way surely between your lips.

Within seconds he pulls back, thumb already swiping away the fat teardrop that marks the end of the wet streak on your skin.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Do you want me to stop?" his eyes fill with a sensitivity you're not sure if you've seen before. It's something you should be more familiar with. But sadly, you're not.

You shake your head with a pout, "Please, don't stop. It hurts. I need you to keep touching me, Burt, please."

He can't get past the whine at the edge of your tone. It snags onto his heartstrings and pulls him right back in for more. Only this time, he lays his lips over the tears.

Fervently, he kisses them away. Nose nuzzling into the side of yours, you let out that giggle you've been holding for too long. And when his lips find yours again, you find that you quite enjoy the plush feeling of them when they curl into a small smile.

Burt doesn't mean to flex his thigh. But when your knee presses against his hardening cock, it startles him. He shifts. And the fabric of his pant leg feels fantastic brushing against you. It inspires an ever growing dark spot where you roll your hips into him, trying to chase the feeling of the accidental action. You whine.

It's fainter than a whisper, the words daring to ghost over your lips. But you feel the vibration of them on your skin as his own lips open.

"Good girl."

And with that, you can't hold it in anymore.

You sob breathily, "Oh, daddy--" As soon as it leaves your mouth, your face gets hot with a searing embarrassment. You're at a fork in the road and you already feel yourself strolling down the path where he pushes you off of him in disgust.

"What did you say?" he asks with burgeoning curiosity.

Maybe he's completely fried your circuits because you repeat it, a note of hesitance looming over the name, "Daddy..."

Every rounded curve of his loving expression rouses a madness within you when he coos almost pitifully, "Oh, my sweet girl. Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

Burt snatches your hope away as quickly as he gave it when he makes you stand before him. You watch with desperation, biting at the skin around your thumb. You never imagined that him simply taking himself out could be a form of foreplay. But the sound of his belt clinking against the zipper of his pants makes you wetter; meaning you have to practically peel your panties away from your cunt before stepping out of them.

Your eagerness grows impossibly when you catch the sight of him. Released from the restraint of those brown slacks, his cock bobs against his pudgy abdomen. The fat tip is tinged a fiery red that makes your mouth water. And if you weren't so impatient for him, you would've gone down on your knees in a heartbeat. You would let your warm saliva drip down the length of him until he could barely even think, let alone remember what you'd called him minutes before.

His velvety voice commands your attention, "Come," he nods in your direction, hands already dragging your hips back to him. You let him take you. Because there's no one else you'd trust more.

You tremble as he nestles you on his thick cock. And he smiles thinly as if it doesn't even bother him that you're almost filled entirely by him. Keeping your lips pursed tight, you hold back everything except for the hot air that blows quickly from your nose. Just beginning to grow numb to the burn from how he stretches you out, you let your mouth hang open. Your breath comes out ragged and you can't seem to think straight.

Whatever strings of sanity might have been left in the wake of his kisses are snapping as you dumbly sit there, letting his large hands run all over you. They seem to take a careful, considerate ownership over you that hushes the worries that brew in your belly. Any questions about what he'll think of you float away, along with your inhibitions.

Goosebumps left in the wake of Burt's exploration of your body, you let out a groan. It's throaty and full of whatever courage his cock instills in you. Because being this vulnerable is difficult. It demands every hard feeling that makes you so eager to take control over a man like him. It orders you to dissect that urge. It makes you realize that if he were anyone else, this closeness just might tear you apart. But with him, this feels like home. A place where you can cry and feel and unlearn wounds that convince you you're not worth this this fuss; that the only way you are deserving of him is if you're on your knees and begging him. He convinces you that you've always been worth this. You deserve to be taken care of. And it's an honor for him to be the one who gets to serve you.

Your thighs shake as you try to bob up and down. Anything just to feel something except for the dull tinges of pleasure as his slightly curved cock prods at a sensitive spot inside you. Burt, once again, dashes your hopes with a firm grasp on your hips.

"Stay." he commands evenly. A few seconds pass where you don’t breathe. The silence slices through even the sound of the wind, rain, and roaring thunder that illuminates the dim room. "I want you to feel it."

He fucking twitches inside you. You nearly choke when you realize that he actually likes this. You aren’t some petulant girl, demanding his time and attention. And he isn’t just some man, sighing and giving you what you want to keep you quiet. Somewhere inside of him, Burt wants this just as much as you do. And it's enough to bring you back to life, shallow gasps and fingers pulled tight around the edges of his open shirt. Overcome by a sudden frenzy, all you want is more, more, more.

"Please, daddy, please--" you manage to whine.

And he chuckles. Smiles like a goddamn saint as he moves you on him, allowing you the mercy of an inch of friction. It's not enough and it's too much. And it still makes fresh tears spill over the old streaks that have dried on your cheeks.

"I've got you, my sweet girl." Burt sweeps a section of your hair behind your ear, "Let me look at you." Studying your expression and seeming to be especially bewildered by the faraway look in your glossy eyes, his hand cups your cheek. You lean into the feeling of the rough pad of his thumb pulling your bottom lip back. He gets closer, nuzzling the side of your nose with his. How anyone else got this sort of intimacy from him and didn't hold onto it like it was their last breath was beyond you.

"There you are," he mutters with satisfaction, "Are you ready to move more?"

As if keeping you here was your idea. As if he hadn't been making you pay for your restlessness with every agonizing second of him being buried in you. Whether he knows it or not, he has all of the power over you.

"You're so mean to me, Burty baby." You attempt to butter him up.

"Mean to you? Never." he seems almost offended, "I just needed to know that you could handle it."

"I can always handle you." There's a sheen of indecision wavering over his expression. Softer this time, you assure him with a kiss, "Always."

And with that, his hands roam back up your sides, now disappearing up your top and creeping towards your breasts which are screaming to feel the warmth of his palms. Finally set free, you bounce on him. And you get exactly what you want. More, more, and more.

Burt kisses you right below your ear and groans, "Oh, darling. Nobody does this like you do. Absolutely no one else."

The pride that wells in your chest has you moving slower, eager to draw this out for both you and him. Because even though you know he’d work through overstimulation to get you there, you long to show him just how grateful you are for his attention. His hot breath fans out over your neck between kisses and whispered praise.

You're so good to me. So good to me, sweet girl.

He holds onto one of your breasts, thumb flicking over the pebbled nipple. That's when the boldness to pinch it softly strikes him. It sends jolts of electric waves straight to your cunt and makes your movements sloppier. He seems to know exactly how to treat you. Knows exactly what touches will cradle the aches that are practically etched into your being.

It never felt like anything was missing from you. But being held like this in his strong arms and pressed against his doughy, soft skin fills you in a different way than his cock does. It tells you that he doesn't want control of you. He only wants the best for you. And right at that moment, the best happens to be every part of his body, enrapturing yours.

The sparks ignite into a full flame and you feel it burn your house to the ground. But a broken, burning home doesn't matter anymore. At least it's not numb anymore. As long as it's just you, whimpering, and him, gently thrusting into you, seemingly dipping deeper every time. He rips you apart, only to rearrange you in a way that makes more sense than you've ever known in your life.

As the last of the solid foundation crumbles beneath you, you're falling into a pool of pleasure, submerged entirely by him. Burt nurses you through the climax as you clench your eyes shut and let your tears fall with careless abandon on his bare chest. If anything, it only pleases him to know he does this to you. To know that he has the ability to leave you shaking and sweating and sobbing on him after all of these years.

Burt finishes soon after you do, encouraged by the way your muscles welcome him. Throwing his head back on the headrest of the armchair, he lets go of every measure that keeps him balanced. Gloriously, his spend leaks from you, dripping onto the seat of the armchair. Button up wrinkled, those smart glasses askew, and hair disheveled, he's sure he looks like a mess. But if it's for his girl, then it's all worth it.

You mindlessly babble his name and he quiets you with another slow kiss. Your eyelids begin to droop, your energy completely drained and replaced with a floaty high as you drift through the aftershocks.

Burt smooths your hair back once more and murmurs gratefully against your parted lips, "I knew you could do it, my sweet girl. You always take such good care of me."

And once more, you feel the corners of his lips curl. Smiling like a saint, as if he hadn't just given you far more attention than you had ever even thought of asking from him.

#danonation #paul dano #danocel #the fabelmans #burt fabelman #burt fabelman x reader #burt fabelman x you #burt fabelman x y/n #burt fabelman smut #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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lutiaslayton · 4 months

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Hi! I really love your timeline analyses and have been thinking about them a lot as I try to write my own Layton longfic. (I hope you don't mind me referencing your timeline and puzzle research for it ^^;) It's very well done! I have a hard time figuring out so many details at once like that, so it's been a huge help.

...I don't want to be annoying or overly nitpicky when I point this out, but I just thought I'd mention something.

We know that Dropstone was founded on August 12th (by the JP version) and Layton travels there on its 50th anniversary (also August 12th). In your deduced timeline you have that arrival date down as Wednesday the 12th, 1963. The year with a Wednesday on an August 12th is actually 1964. In 1963, the 12th falls on a Monday.

I don't know if the day being a Wednesday specifically matters at all, or if Layton's days of the week aren't in sync with ours, but from what I understand, your timeline might be 1 year behind. (Or that date was meant to be Monday the 12th...?)

I figured with SLS (one of my favorite fics ever, by the way!) being in 1953, a detail like this could be important to you, but you can totally ignore this ask if I'm wrong! I just wanted to let you know just in case.

Hi! The fact that you picked up on this is a true testament to your dedication and rigorous work, congratulations!!

I haven't touched this timeline in a long while for a number of reasons (far too many other projects + "um actually I think there might be multiple timelines and you can't put every single game/novel/manga/movie/other in the same chronology but it becomes soooooo much more interesting if you start placing them in multiple ones, also puzzle theory makes that not only plausible but also quite probable"), so sadly I have forgotten most of the details of how past me from over a year ago reached the conclusions that she did. From what I remember, however, the quick answer to your question is simple: yes, the days of the week in the Laytonverse are out of sync with ours.

(I kinda like how I take it as a bigger reminder that the Laytonverse really is disconnected from our world's History in a number of ways, from the mention in the novels of kings and queens that do not exist IRL to the simple logical fact that there is no way History happened the same way when mechas are a thing, the Azran happened, Targent happened, and also puzzles break the laws of physics daily. But that's just personal preference.)

I think what started it was the fact that London Holiday takes place on a Sunday and that I could not find any way to make the whole "a few days ago" for both Curious Village and Diabolical Box work alongside the "They arrive in Dropstone on August 12th." I won't redo the math right now because schedule and to-do list and other stuff (+ I trust you more to check it since your brain cogs are already warm and revving in the middle of it, so you would be more efficient at figuring it out as well as more critical than present me), but if memory serves, this was the best I could manage at the time, and I never went back later to recheck the math. I really just stopped at "Yes, there is a desync, so what? That's not supposed to be the real world anyway. Also huge kudos to whoever notices."

---

My mind is set on the fact that the Layton timeline places the original trilogy on the year 1963 because of the promotional UF artwork implying that UF would take place during the winter between 1963 and 1964, but that part is personal preference since I know (and stated on the timeline web page iirc) that in-universe, this date does not appear in the game. I know other people use for example the "Year 1960" unused artwork which had been datamined from Curious Village. I also know that the World of PL interview just says "There is no official date, it's inspired from the 1960s but we are never going to give a date because we don't want to." I also also know that some others, who consider the PLvsAA crossover canon, take the Ace Attorney timeline and thus completely yeet the "1960s" part into oblivion.

So the choice is ultimately up to personal preference, and you're free to choose a different one! The only reason I put 1963 in the timeline instead of "Year YYYY ; Year YYYY - 50 ; Year YYYY + 1" and such is for obvious readability reasons... and because past me had not thought that perhaps there could be a Javascript way to say "hey put here the year you'd like the original trilogy to take place in," have the user click on a button, and make the whole page do the calculations and display the new dates according to the user's chosen year of reference. darn it now I'm going to be nagging myself into implementing that but it would also be so tedious.

---

Anyway TL;DR yes I was aware of this, and past me either forgot to mention it or thought "Eh it's not like anybody will notice/care" hahaha. Rather insensitive from past me admittedly, I do now wonder why I didn't add that as a small paragraph in the preliminary notes... Most likely reason is that the thought just didn't cross my mind at the time.

Good luck on your own longfic, don't hesitate to send me the link (no promises on reading it the day it comes out because there are SO many fics already on my to-read list, but nnngnfhghh I wish I could read other people's works as well as continue working on SLS), and thank you for your ask! Even though I was personally aware of it, you can absolutely feel proud of having picked up on it, and don't hesitate to come back to me (and make me sweat cold bullets) if you figure out a way to make "1963" + "London Holiday on a Sunday" + "No week day desyncs with the real world" work. Thanks to you, other people can now be made aware of this detail which I had apparently forgotten to explain explicitly!

Lastly, I don't remember whether I mentioned it here or not because it's still far from done and isn't going to be truly useful before a LONG while, but just in case what little info is on there could still be useful to you or someone else in any way: among many other things, I'm working on a Lore Map. Imagine having the ENTIRETY of EVERY SINGLE CANON FACT we have been given, in a single web page, with a whole list of tags so you can filter only the trivia that is relevant to your fanfic research <3

---

(Now this paragraph is completely unrelated to your ask, I'm going to leave this here for a different person (or not? would be good luck if you're the same anon): I am so sorry to the anon who asked me if I considered the LMJ ARG event canon or not, I uhhhhh... got carried away and I don't think the answer will be posted anytime soon, because for the sake of answering it in an exhaustive way I wanted to re-read the entirety of what has been preserved of it + add every bit of trivia I could find to the Lore Map mentioned earlier. And I'm juggling between many other projects too so progress is very slow. TL;DR version of my personal opinion so far: as for everything else it is up to personal preference, but I could theoretically see at least parts of it being canon. The trickiest part I found by reading just the introduction of the ARG is the fact that Kat would apparently make livestreams. Which implies the existence of the internet or a similar technology, the existence of streaming platforms, and the fact that she would have a decent-ish enough following for her random viewers from all around the world to want to help her. And if we go with the hypothesis that there could be multiple timelines, I could see that happen in an Ace Attorney-based timeline such as the one in which the PLvsAA crossover is canon, for example! I don't know enough about AA to be able to speak about it with confidence, but I think that 20+ years after the original AA trilogy, internet technology is indeed quite advanced enough for this to be possible? anyway. Just thought I'd give you a first short answer so you don't have to keep holding your breath and/or think I completely forgot about you. I'm sorry :'D)

#lutiasreplies #lutiasgithub #pl theory board

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