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#Grace Nuggets
northwoodsfan · 7 days
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Grace Nugget for 4.21.24
Grace Nuggets: Simple Reminders of God’s great love for you.
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socksandbuttons · 1 month
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"KC handles Bloodmoon with much exasperation. Bloodmoon picked up this sucker and went 'our Spawn'. Baffles KC."
Do this mean KC is a BEAN? Smol murder cat?
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After an encounter with Lunar yes. He gets Beaned. Small murder cat.
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ratislatis · 1 year
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I need everyone to know that when I heard the first note to s2 ep21. I was like "oh my fucking god are they actually playing mcr on this podcast" forgetting that they always do covers??
and then scary marlowe's voice sailed through my car speakers
and I fucking SCREAMED
besties I screamed for THREE straight minutes I was in HYSTERICS. can you imagine being one of those other cars on the highway and just seeing this scrawny teenage girl with possum memorabilia all over the place. and her jaw is just on the floor. and you can't hear anything but you can physically see that she is expending all the air in her lungs
she is yelling "NO WAY. NO FUCKING WAY" with dumbfounded hilarity unparalleled by god
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silenteyes · 1 year
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😱 Jason Grace fanfiction???
This isn’t the actual fanfiction, by the way. It’s just an outline/draft for the idea. Though, should I write it? The draft/outline itself is already 1k words 😭 I’ll write it if people want me to write it, but even if they don’t, I might end up writing it. Just much much later
also sorry for being dead for a few months, life was an absolute ass :3
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mrs-han · 1 year
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Hi Mama Han! 💜 Please know my Happy Birthday wishes are meant to be sent the day of your birthday and not before 🙏 (in my country is considered bad luck to greet someone for their birthday days before 😅)
I thought of asking for something sweet like MC making Jumin sleep on her lap on the days at his penthouse when he obviously didn't sleep, but THEN I remembered this video:
https://youtu.be/d_sa4Ur04QU
And the masterpiece that was "The Trilogy of the Marias" with Thalia and I thought: Jumin's route, but as a Mexican telenovela with the funniest tropes we love from the medium (the rich boy, the poor girl, the evil stepmom, AMNESIA, lost relatives, Soraya! Pick your choice! )
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Basically I hope you can write something you can have fun writing 😊 and Happy Birthday (in a few days)
Omo, hello Darling!! *huggu*
(Don’t worry, I totally understand — my family will only say it the day of, too! I got caught saying ‘Happy Birthday’ to my father the day before his birthday, and I got LOOKS.)
AND OKAY UM, MEXICAN TELENOVELAS?! Omo. Omo, I just got an idea based off of a show modeled after a telenovela 😂 if you know, you know! (My mom loves that novela, by the by 😂)
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Okie!! Here goes!! And ¡¡¡Muchas gracias por tu petición!!! Siento haber tardado tanto ><
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Jumin had never attended a unisex baby shower before. His father’s more lucrative partner insisted on a gender-neutral theme, something Jumin heavily admired. The colors were very pleasing to the eye.
But as the party progressed, Jumin couldn’t stop noticing the combined glow and irritability of the mother-to-be. She kept complaining of the room being too hot, or too cold. She had even thrown a gifted pair of slippers at her husband’s head at one point.
“Ah, sweet love.” Standing next to his best friend, V casually leaned against Jumin’s sturdy figure. “Take it in, Jumin. One day, that will be us. At the mercy of our dear —”
“What the hell is this?” The mother-to-be demanded, lifting up a pair of slim-fitting jeans. “Who would buy me this now?! Do I look like I can fit into jeans?!”
V awkwardly lifted his glass to his lips. Jumin bit back a laugh.
“Hey Jumin, she’d like jeans, wouldn’t she? She can wear them after she gives birth, right?”
“Honey, try to calm down —”
“How can I stay calm when some idiot thinks I can fit into a size two after this?!”
Slipping out of the room like an eel between rocks, V set his wine glass down and exhaled shakily.
“I’m not an expert, but —”
“Shut up, Jumin.”
Laughing softly, Jumin’s eyes fell to his blurry reflection echoed in the wine’s dark red color.
“Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?” V asked.
“About?”
“Settling down. Having kids.”
Jumin was ready to object, but his best friend was right. His mind did wander to the possibilities of siring heirs one day, but that meant meeting a woman and…
Ehm.
Still. Jumin’s age combined with the lack of an heir to the Han family name got to him.
A little bit.
“I have no interest in dating anyone at the moment, much less marrying them. Children are, unfortunately, a very distant goal.”
Finishing his wine, V smacked his lips, much to Jumin’s chagrin. “Sure, if you stay in your bubble.”
“Sure, I should be just like you,” Jumin scoffed. “Rambling to the park attendant about the speeds of rollercoasters and eventually throwing up in the nearest trash can once the ride is over.”
“… You said you’d never bring that up again.”
“It’s safe to say that you and I aren’t siring any heirs anytime soon. Women repulse me, and you, well —”
“Yes, yes, I’ll probably puke all over the next woman I talk to. Right?”
“… No, but why not.” Jumin grinned.
V’s eyes grew as a thought came to mind. “Ready for a crazy idea?”
Jumin took another sip of his wine. “Why not, the night is still young.”
“Let’s donate sperm tomorrow.”
Spitting everything up, Jumin’s eyes bore into V. “Are you — what? Why?”
“Well, like you said. We aren’t having kids anytime soon, and with how much busier our lives are going to get, it’s not a bad idea.”
“V, do you really —”
“We’ll be giving the gift of life to a couple. Or a well-off single mom!”
“… I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
“Come on, Jumin. We both know you’re going to say yes.”
“Doesn’t it bother you? There will be a young man or woman that will one day look like you, or me. We aren’t in the private eye, Jihyun.”
“Who cares about all that. Why are you so worried?”
Jumin felt the uncomfortable churn of jealousy over V’s more carefree nature. “I… well, there’s no harm in checking it out —”
“I already made an appointment for us.”
“You wha — delete it.”
A shame V refused to listen. The following day, Jumin found himself sitting in the waiting room of a sperm donor facility.
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“No, that’s literally impossible.”
“Ma’am… I’m sorry, but…” laughing nervously, the doctor looked at you, then at the paperwork in her hand. “The results prove otherwise. When was your last period?”
“Uh, a I’m a little late, but —”
“How late?”
“Two, three weeks? Look, I shouldn’t be pregnant. I can’t be pregnant, I’ve never had sex! I’m here for the results of a Pap smear, not to —!!”
You cut yourself off. You had to, or the swirling sensation you felt would eventually tip you over.
The doctor’s eyes gradually widened. “… You… were the Pap smear appointment at 0900 hours on Tuesday?”
“Yes!!”
“… Oh!” Her laughter almost calmed your nerves.
Almost.
“I confused my appointments, you see… I had an artificial insemination appointment with another client… forty-five minutes after you… I must have gotten you two mixed up…!”
“Are you kidding me?!” You yelled. “How could you confuse the two?!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t — I had a lot on my mind that day! You see, I had —”
“Oh my God, I don’t want to hear it!!” Throwing your hands up, you couldn’t stop focusing on the anxious churning in your stomach. Hell, maybe it was the seed suddenly aware that it shouldn’t be there.
“There are options for you to take —”
“You know what, you’re done. I want a new doctor.”
“Ma’am, it’s the end of the year… and if you want to schedule an appointment with a new provider, you need to wait until after New Years…”
“After New Years.”
“And our staff at the front desk is going to inform you that the wait will be about two months out…”
You had never been more furious in your life. Sliding off of the examination chair, you (tried to) take as many deep, controlling breaths as possible. You were too afraid to ask about your options, and while abortion was the most reasonable, this doctor would probably end up giving you cyanide to injest.
“If I may,” the doctor voiced timidly, raising her finger.
You shook your head, agitating the budding headache against your temples. “I really don’t want to hear any suggestions, thanks.”
“No, you see… the sperm donor asked that I inform him of when his sperm was ever used —”
“His sperm should have never been used.”
“Nevertheless… would you like to know…? Who…”
The timidity of your doctor’s voice frustrated you further. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt I’ll keep it.”
“Which is reasonable, given the circumstances! But, I’m wondering if you, too, would like to know… given you may not keep —”
“Fine. Who is it.”
She stared at you, fumbling with her fingers. “Are you familiar with Han Jumin of C&R International…?”
You stopped breathing. Your fingers tingled, your throat went dry, and your jaw clenched so tightly that you felt your teeth grinding rigidly against each other.
Han Jumin. The heir to the massive business conglomerate, C&R. Of course you knew him. Well, not personally. You were currently reading one of his books, The Successful Path of a Certain Man, for your Business Intelligence & Analytics final.
He was a business magnate, a flawless negotiator and the role model for business majors everywhere.
And you were inseminated with his seed.
“I have to go.”
“Um, wait — ma-am!”
Ignoring your doctor completely, you grabbed your coat and rushed out of the facility. It was too much for you to absorb, and you had so many questions.
Like, what was the Han Jumin doing at a sperm bank?
How would you go about suing your doctor?
Why did you schedule your first freaking Pap smear towards the end of the year?!
You wanted to go home, curl under a huge pile of blankets, and disappear from the world.
But something else captured your attention. A ping from your phone.
Unknown: … Hello…? Can you see this?
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Did God leave us to act according to our sinful natures--we would all be incarnate devils, and this world would be an absolute Hell! There is no little sin, because there is no little God to sin against.
Thomas Brooks [Audio] [More gems]
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cmcsmen · 1 year
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Catholic Manhood Nuggets: Divine Mercy Octave Day of Easter
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davidokeags · 1 year
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We only have a few seats left! Have you registered for "The Company of Prophets?" If not, please, go to www.davidokeags.com/tcop23 The ministry of Prophets is still and will always be relevant in the body of Christ and as a nation and Tribes of Chridr! The company of prophets is a platform for contact and education for believers on the ministry of prophets and their response to it (1 Samuel 10:10). The ministry of prophets has been idolized, abused, bastardized, ignored, and, misunderstood. Would you like to know why and how to respond and flow with/in/to the ministry of prophets? If so, Then, this is for you! Prophets are God's mouthpiece with divine insights to bring awareness and announcements to God's people about the mind of God per kairos. Please register before 11 pm on Friday, March 11th #TheCompanyofProphets2023 #Fire #JesusRevealed #TCOP23 #Jesus #Worship #Prophecy #Prophetic #Teaching #Education ##SpiritualFood #Nuggets #Grace #Fashion #Nature #Healing #Deliverance #Worship #Anointing https://www.instagram.com/p/CoNDNe0LeyW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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wromchannel · 1 year
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Nuggets of Life For 2023 (Episode 03)
Sometimes there are reasons why people act the way they do. Probably, who knows if you had gone through the same condition, you might have acted same way Don’t mix bad words with bad mood; you might have several opportunities to change a mood but you’ll never get the opportunity to replace the words you’ve spoken. Hurting someone can be as easy as throwing a stone in the sea but do you have any…
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flkwh0re · 3 months
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Babysitter
Warnings: Mommy kink (W), age gap, slight pervy Wanda, Masturbation, Somno, slight Dubcon, cheating (Wanda cheats on Vision), little fluffy! (please tell me if i left some warnings out!!)
Wc: 1.6k
A/n: If you don’t like this idc :) just scroll or block me if you don’t like this content!
part two here
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You had been babysitting the Maximoff twins since you were in high school, but now being in college you were hardly ever able to. That was until Wanda found out you were home for a few days and sent you a text asking if you didn't mind to watch the boys for the evening while her and her husband went out for dinner.
You never liked Jarvis, he would always give you weird looks when Wanda was around you. You had noticed a change in Wanda's demeanor towards you when you came home again a couple months ago. You just brushed it off as him being weird, but you were completely wrong.
Little did you know Wanda had not been able to get you out of her mind, she would catch herself thinking about you at all points of the day. She thought it was just because she missed you, but when she found herself with her fingers buried in her pussy, holding her phone displaying a picture of yourself you had posted on Instagram. It felt so wrong, but oh so right.
You hesitantly rung the doorbell, waiting for someone to answer the door. You never understood your shyness around Wanda, you thought it was some silly little teenage girl crush. It most definitely wasn't as it strengthened in you adulthood.
"Hi sweetheart!" Wanda greeted happily, pulling you into a hug. The smell of her perfume crowded your senses, making you feel weak. "Ugh, I've missed you so much!" She placing a little kiss on your forehead, a tint of pink gracing you cheeks. "I've missed you too, Wanda."
She brought you to the living room, and made some little small talk with you while she waited for Jarvis. She asked you all about your second year in college, the trips you had taken, your friends, and lots more. Wanda just loved hearing you talk about things you do, and things you loved.
You were interrupted by Jarvis' trudge down the stairs. "Darling, are you ready?" He said smugly, giving you a look. "Yes, let me call the boys down. Y/n there's chicken nuggets in the freezer, you can fix them for them. Kitchen is yours so you fix whatever you want, house too. Once the boys are asleep feel free to do whatever, just don't destroy the house." She send you a little wink, and you nodded your head.
"Boys!" She called out to her twin boys, and they came running out of their room. "Tommy, Billy. Mommy and daddy are going out tonight, be on your best behavior for Y/n." The two boys nodded eagerly, excited for their evening with you. Wanda said her goodbyes to you as Jarvis stood annoyed and impatient. Once they had left you turned to the boys, "Who's ready for some fun!?"
Wanda and Jarvis had been gone for an hour now, Tommy and Billy were eating their dinner while you prepared yours. They excited to finish, because you promised if they did you'd all play on their shared playstation for a few hours.
After you all had finished, you played until it was time for them to go to bed. Their protest made you giggle as you drug them up to bed. "Sorry boys, but your mom would kill me if you weren't in bed on time." They both groaned, but still complied nonetheless.
You walked back down to the living room, curling up on the couch taking your laptop out of your bag, hoping to get some work done for your classes. You didn't know you'd wind up clutching onto a blanket coated in Wanda's sent, your nimble fingers rubbing your clit. The tips of your fingers prod at your aching hole, as you imagined Wanda's fingers buried deep inside you.
The sudden sound of the door opening, sent you into a panic. You pulled your hand out, trying to readjust the blanket as best as possible. You get on your phone and scroll through TikTok trying to seem as normal as possible. "Hey sweetheart we're back." Wanda said as Jarvis walked off. "Hi Wanda, give me just a second and I'll be out of your hair.”
"Oh Y/n why don't you spend the night, it's too late for a girl your age to be out this late." She insisted. "Wanda I'm not a little girl anymore." You chuckled, walking into the hallway by the door where Wanda stood. "Oh but you are, you're my little girl." Wanda said, your face heating up.
"W-wanda I-" She cut you off by placing a her finger on your lips. "Shh, let mommy do the thinking. Stay the night, and once Jarvis goes to bed I'll come back to you." She husk in your ear, her hand snaking around your front. "But Wanda, h-he's your husband.. you’re married." She laughed, "You don't think I'm aware? He's not been much of onefor years, and I can't get my mind off you. I need you sweet girl, please let mommy have you."
You hesitate, but nod your head. Her hand slips underneath your shirt, groping at your tits. "We have time for a little fun real quick." She whispered into your ear, the sultry tone in her voice makes you shiver. Her hand runs down your body and slips into your pants, rubbing your slit through your panties. She gasp as she feels how wet you are, "You're so wet detka, what were you doing? Tell mommy."
"I-I was on your couch, t-touching myself." You whimpered out, any dignity you had was now gone. Her fingers slip into your panties, rubbing your swollen clit. She sucks lightly on your neck, leaving little marks on your delicate skin.
Her slender fingers plunge into your aching cunt, thrusting steadily in and out of you. You try your best to choke back your moans, but you accidentally let a loud moan slip past your lips. Wanda quickly brought her hand to your mouth, covering it. "Shh be a good girl for mommy, we don't want my husband to catch us now do we?" You shake your head, indicating a desperate no.
Your legs begin to buckle, as your orgasm crashes through. Muffled moans escape your throat, as Wanda fucks you through your orgasm. The hand on your mouth retracts as she helps your regain composure. You watch her as she sucks your slick off her fingers, moaning around the digits as she savors your taste.
"I can't wait to taste you for real baby." Wanda says excitedly, as she pulls you into a kiss. "Alright, let's get you to bed. I'll be back down in about an hour.” She says as she leads you to the spare room.
You tried your best to get a little sleep, and right before Wanda came in you managed to doze off. She smiled at your sleeping state, pulling the sheets of your body. She softly moves your body so she can remove your shorts and panties. A groan escapes her lips at you still dripping cunt.
She places her head between your legs, dropping soft kisses on you thighs. Her tongue licking soft licks on your swollen clit, running down to your hole prodding at it. It wasn't until Wanda harshly sucked on your clit, that you began to stir awake. Little whimpers and moans escaped your sleepy self, thighs softly clamping around Wanda's head.
"You taste so good detka," she whispered into your pussy, the vibration of her voice making you whimper even more. She loved how vocal you were, how sensitive and reactive you were. She hasn't had sex like this ever, Jarvis could never truly give her pleasure.
She slipped her digits into your cunt. "Oh fuck mommy!" You moaned at the sudden fullness. You loved feeling so desperate and weak for Wanda, and she loved it too. "Fuck! 'M gonna cum mommy!" Groans and cries left you as she fucked you hard through the ecstatic orgasm.
She straddled her bare pussy on yours, rutting it against yours. "Mm no mommy, 'm too tired. Please st-stop." You begged her, but the thrust of her hips quickened. "No detka, mommy wants to cum. Help make mommy cum."
Her slick mixed with yours, her pussy rubbing on your own sensitive one made you feel crazy. "Fuck sweetheart, mommy's gonna cum! Cum with mommy." With her demand, cum gushed from you leaking onto her pussy, mixing with her own cum.
"Good girl, mommy's so proud of you." She said, placing a soft kiss on your lips. "You think you can give mommy one more? I wanna ride your face." You nodded sloppily.
She slipped off your body, straddling your face. Her slick cunt making contact with your lips. Your tongue slipped past your lips, licking a bold stripe on her pussy. "Fuck, just like that detka."
You swap from weakly licking and sucking on her core, you tried your best but you were so week from your previous orgasms you couldn't keep a steady pace. Wanda pitied you and ordered you to stick your tongue out, grinding her cunt on it. Getting just enough friction to cum. Her cum dripped down your throat, you had never tasted someone as good as her.
"You did so good for me baby, such a good good girl!" Wanda praised. "Thank you mommy." You weakly squeaked.
Wanda laid down next to you, pulling your smaller body into her. Kiss your lips softly, then your forehead. Wanda knew she had to do something about Jarvis, she just had to make you hers so bad! She'd do whatever she had to, just to keep you for herself.
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restlesswritingss · 4 months
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In which Astarion is jealous
Astarion knew he had no right to be jealous. You two were not exclusive. He was the one who had said you would belong to each other for the night during your little forest rendezvous. During the day you two had no claims to one another. That had suited him perfectly as he flirted with your other companions in an effort to earn their loyalty the only way he knew how. He hadn't gotten as far with any of them as he had with you, but it never hurt to try.
But now his non-committal words were being thrown back in his face as he watched you flirt your way through both your companions and the people you encountered on your journey. You weren't as shameless as he was, but still there was the twirl of your hair, the leaning in closer than necessary, and the god awful way you indulged Gale's 'jokes' gracing his undeserving ass with your flitty laugh. Astarion felt secure in his position as your favorite bedroll companion so there was no logical reason he seethed at the idea that he wasn't the only one.
Take now for example, he should have been continuing his efforts to wrap Shadowheart around his finger. She was the one he was closest to getting in his bed and on his side, besides you of course. But as she spoke to him in attempt to banter, his focus was solely on you and Wyll walking in front of him.
You were laughing, surely at something besides Wyll's dumb jokes, shoving him playfully. The warlock then grabbed your hand to pull you with him as you both slightly stumbled off the path.
Astarion wasn't the only one not enjoying this display of comradery between you and tHe BlaDE of FRontIErs. Gale had come up to you in his normally 'jolly' manner offering his hand to help you back onto the road. You'd blushed and taken it gratefully, Wyll rolling his eyes behind you.
Gods this was annoying. Even the girls had been vying for your affections. Astarion was just lucky most of the group went both ways so his own flirtations weren't thrown to the side. Shadowheart, who had previously been leaning into Astarion's side in a not at all subtle way to press her chest to his arm, was now eyeing you as you bent over to dust yourself off.
Laezel and Karlach's conversation even halted at the sight of your bent over posterior. That sent Astarion over the edge. He was the one who'd made you scream his name just last night. Regretfully it had once again been in a clearing away from camp and prying ears. That would have to be rectified tonight in your tent.
You stood up finally and realized everyone's attention was on you.
You blushed sweetly, embarrassed, and said, "Sorry."
Your nervous giggle hit a pang in Astarion's hollow chest. His affections for you were rising by the moment, but he pushed that down. In the back of his mind, a part of him knew this jealousy was about more than just securing his protection from you, but he pushed that down as well. He'd always been good at ignoring his feelings.
Astarion pulled away from Shadowheart to approach you. He saw you perk up a bit at his obvious preference to you, a nugget of joy he pocketed greedily.
He stroked your cheek lightly with the back of his hand as his gaze bore into yours. You were looking up at him in a way that was so sweet, it took all his strength to not whisk you off the path and have you right then and there.
"Are you alright love?" He asked in a tone that he found himself not forcing out.
You nodded while leaning into his touch ever so slightly.
Gale cleared his throat and it brought Astarion back. He'd gotten lost in your big round eyes and had almost completely forgotten the rest of your companions. His jealousy came rearing back in full force as Gale's disgusting hand squeezed your upper arm and Wyll put a hand at the small of your back. You tensing up at all the attention and touching quenched it however. He immediately stepped back to give you space whilst glaring at the other two to do the same.
Of course they didn't and he again fought against his instincts to not bite their heads off. You shrugged off their hands and worry and stepped to the side to continue on the path. This time however, you stuck to Astarion's side, exactly where you belonged.
That night at camp, Astarion's gaze never left you. He told himself he was analyzing a target but really he was just watching how your interactions with everyone had shifted slightly. You were holding yourself back. There was no innuendos, no giggling, no batting of your long pretty eyelashes. Just genuine friendship and platonic care for your companions.
This warmed Astarion more than the fire. Were you finally seeing that he was the only one you needed warming your bed at night? Your late night trysts had gotten more and more frequent as Astarion found himself actually enjoying sex for the first time since gods knows when. Also the more time he spent in your bed meant the less time the others had. Unless you were a sex fiend who could go all night and had a rotation after he left. That was always a possibility. A possibility that ate away at him.
Astarion's internal worries were soothed once again by your presence. You brought your food bowl over as you sat directly next to him by the fire. He pretended to be actually reading the book in his lap, not wanting to give away how distracting just you being near him was. The rest of your group stared as you picked sitting with him over them and Astarion wanted to give them all a smirk but again he refrained from showing how much this all meant to him.
You ate in silence, staring at the fire with the occasional glance in his direction. Eventually, he bumped his knee against yours. You smiled sweetly and scooted closer so your thighs were flushed against each other.
"How is our darling leader doing?" He asked, surprising himself with his genuine curiosity on your wellbeing.
You then leaned your head on his shoulder, he shifted so it would be more comfortable for you setting off alarm bells in his own head. He wasn't supposed to care about your comfort, just your loyalty.
You sighed contently, "Better now that they are with their favorite group member."
He was thankful for the first time ever that his heart didn't beat because if it did, it would surely have been audibly racing at your words.
You chuckled at his stunned silence, "I'm sure that is a surprise to no one, but please don't rub it in to the others too much."
He scoffed at that, "Well I'm not about to give them another reason to want to shove a stake through my chest."
You laughed, a true squawk that he just adored.
Shaking your head and sitting up, depriving Astarion of your warmth, you bumped your shoulder against his lightly.
"I would never let them."
This was what the whole plan had been for. Your protection was secured, he should have felt triumphant at his success. All he felt though was guilt. You were so genuine with your affections. He knew this was hard for you. You had been slowly opening up to him, a fact that at the beginning of your 'relationship' made him feel successful in his plan but now just made him feel . . . good.
He once again stroked your cheek with the back of his hand and you leaned into his touch overtly, kissing the back of knuckles.
Your eyes widened at the realization of what you just did set it. As you went to pull away, he turned his hand to cup the back of your neck and keep you in place. You met his eyes and relaxed at the soft smile on his face.
"I know, I revel in your blatant favoritism," he began meaning to keep things light and teasing but couldn't help adding, "I try very hard to give you better orgasms than the rest of our group of horny weirdos."
He was fishing for confirmation of his fears. You frowned and pulled away from him.
"Do you think I'm sleeping with other people?" There was hurt in your voice and he couldn't place why.
He sputtered, thrown by your reaction, "We haven't made any promises, I don't expect you to tame your desires for me."
"Are you sleeping with other people?" You attempted to steel your voice, but he saw through the flimsy mask to the hurt in your voice.
Astarion found himself torn between his feelings and his instincts. His feelings told him to assure you you were the only one for him, but his instincts forced him to leave it out in the open. You didn't need to know that he only really wanted to sleep with you, and hadn't been able to get in anyone else's pants not for lack of trying. In the end, he decided to play coy.
He twirled your hair and shrugged, "Well our companions don't seem to have a thing for vampires, so I hadn't really been successful in my quest to find someone to fulfill my more sinful desires with until you. But don't let my lack of success stop you from indulging in their embraces, I will find ways to fill my nights without you. Our dear Shadowheart seems to be warming up to me. I'm sure she'll indulge me soon enough."
Oh gods he'd rambled too much. You frowned and looked down with tears pricking your eyes.
"I see, I haven't found interest in any of our other members but I understand if you have. I know we made no promises to each other," You took a deep shaky breath and looked as if you were going to continue but thought better of it.
Astarion wanted you to continue.
Astarion found himself slipping the mask fully back on, realizing for the first time that it had been off, and smirking, "Well I'm sure you'll have much better success than I. It seems to have escaped no one here how delicious you are so I have no doubt you can have your pick of the lot. Do tell me all the salacious details though, it's only fair."
You pushed further away from him and his hand that was still playing with the ends of your hair hung in the air. He found the comfort it was bringing him yanked away.
You frown at him, but then your own masks slips on. Astarion hates your mask, it hid his favorite parts about you.
You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes, "I promise to come to you the moment I have anything to share, I hope you indulge me the same as well."
With that you stand and retire to your tent, which bothers Astarion more than it should. He waits in the same spot hoping for your reemergence for a pathetic amount of time.
Finally, once everyone has gone to bed besides Karlach who has been assigned first watch, Astarion allows his feet to carry him to the one place he truly wants to be - with you.
He knows he should knock, but he is still learning to respect boundaries and he wants to see what you are doing. He'd kept watchful eyes on your tent and knows you are alone thank the gods. His glaring may have been the main deterrent of any potential suitors, but he wouldn't think about that.
You were sitting on your bedroll reading, something you normally did next to him by the firelight. When you looked up at him, your face was red and puffy from crying. His heart sank at that, it couldn't have been because of your conversation could it? He hadn't said everything the exact way he wanted to, but you'd both walked away with your freedom in tact.
"What's wrong little love?" His voice was softer than he wanted, he was always softer than he wanted to be with you. But he never beat himself up for it too much because you deserved softness.
There was turmoil in your eyes, an obvious debate on how honest to be with him going on in your mind.
"Please tell me," He begged, forgoing his mask altogether in the hope it would make you drop yours.
It worked just as intended.
"I didn't realize we weren't exclusive, or that I was your last choice for a nighttime companion," your voice was hoarse and small.
He hated that your voice was hoarse and small.
He knelt in front of you and you tucked your knees to your chest. His hands reached out to rub what he could reach of your calves as he pressed close to you.
Astarion tried to think carefully how to put what he wanted to say but you spoke first.
"I knew you were flirting with the others, but I guess I thought I was special to you-"
"You are," He surprised both of you with how assuredly he spoke the omission.
That thoroughly shut you up, an adorable blush dusting across you cheeks. Astarion meant to smirk but it again was too soft.
But then indignation filled him, "You were flirting with them as well! I saw the way you cozied up to Wyll and Gale, neither of which are funny and I would appreciate you not leading them to believe they are."
You huffed now and pouted, something he again found just adorable. His annoyance at your hypocrisy dissolved at the knowledge that you said you only wanted him.
"I only flirted with them because you couldn't keep your hands off Shadowheart," You mumbled.
Astarion laughed at that, at the idea that he would prefer any of your companions to you and that the idea had made you jealous. You just huffed again at his laughter.
"Well, well, well, sounds like someone was jealous, want me all to yourself then?" He teased but panic set in as he realized the implications of his questions. He wanted you all to himself desperately but that was impossible. He could never deserve someone just for himself, let alone someone as wonderful and desired as you.
"Yes," the word was disgustingly earnest.
Your gaze went to the floor, unable to look at his reaction. Of course Astarion wouldn't want that.
But Astarion gently gripped your chin and tilted your head to look at him. Instead of the expected suave arrogance, you found only disbelief.
"Really?" He asked, desperate for the answer to be yes again.
Your answer was in your eyes and it terrified him. What about when you tired of him? Realized the useless thing that he was and tossed him aside? But didn't he deserve something good after all the hell he had endured?
And you were good.
He kissed you and felt your answer on his lips, in the way you gripped his collar desperately, in your legs wrapping around his waist in an iron grip to keep him as if he'd ever want to leave.
Astarion made love for first the time in his undead life with you that night. It was. . . spectacular. He'd slept in your arms, exhausted from the activities in the best way possible. Awaking with you in his arms like he was a regular person who deserved this kind of thing, was a treat he never thought he would experience.
You were endearingly grouchy in the morning, snuggling further into his embrace to avoid the invading ruckus of your group in the morning.
The blanket had been kicked off by you in the night, Astarion not really needing it and you being a restless sleeper. But at least in left every inch of your bare body exposed to him. He watched the rise and fall of your breath and felt the beat of your heart against his own chest.
Astarion felt the weight of his guilt pierce the peaceful morning. He'd just been tricking you, but now things felt real. The affection he felt for you was real, however marred it was by his past. The familiar feelings of disgust for how his body had been used crept in and it felt wrong to associate that with you and the sweetness of last night. What had happened was different, you were different. But his feelings were the same.
Astarion's internal torture was interrupted by Gale opening the flap to your tent. Thank the gods for Astarion's quick reflexes because he was able to snatch the blanket and cover your body from wandering eyes. Gale did get a full view of Astarion's naked form, but the wizard didn't look appreciative of the view he got.
"Have you ever heard of knocking?" Astarion yelled, regretting it the moment you whimpered from underneath him.
You were sitting up clutching the blanket to your chest as you realized someone unwanted was staring at you.
Gods you were slow waking up, Astarion realized he would always have to be the one to ward off any late night dangers because you were useless when you first woke up. The idea of sleeping next to you for the rest of your nights felt like a given.
"Gale!" You shrieked realizing it was the wizard staring at you dumbfounded to see you in such a compromising position. You attempted to cover Astarion with the blanket as well but it wasn't very big. He appreciated the effort.
"My - my apologies I was just coming to wake you for breakfast. I had no idea you had a. . . companion," his tone went bitter at the end as he glared at Astarion.
You ducked to hide further behind Astarion's shoulder, his chest in front of you again to block you from fucking Gale.
"Get out!" Astarion yelled, his patience running out at your obvious discomfort.
Gale was quick to obey and scrambled out, hastily closing the tent behind him.
You wrapped an arm around Astarion's chest and snuggled your face into his back. Astarion stiffened as he realized you were snuggling into his scarred back but it wasn't something you hadn't already seen. You'd seen so many parts of him and yet you still wanted him to yourself. He'd never understand it. Kisses peppered his back and everything in his mind dulled as he focused on the feeling of your lips trailing up to the nape of his neck. It wasn't enticing, no insinuation of a morning round two to be found, just affectionate.
"Do we have to get up and see them?" you mumbled into his back.
He laughed, genuinely, "Well at least now they all know that you are well and truly taken."
You giggled, "As if it wasn't obvious I was yours already."
He sighed, happy for a moment. Your hand began rubbing his chest gently. There was still the looming issue of his manipulation and his newfound feelings for you, as well as his issues with intimacy, but for the moment you were holding him and it all felt ok. And you were his.
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northwoodsfan · 1 month
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What Will You Do With Jesus?
Then he asked them, “But who do you say I am?” Matthew‬ ‭16‬:‭15‬The atheist doubts His existence. The skeptic doubts his deity and judges Him according to those who claim to follow him. Some see him as a man of love. Who do YOU say he is? What will you do with Jesus? Our response determines our outlook on life. Our response determines how we respond to issues of race, gender and sexual…
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lingering-42-long · 1 year
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141 + extra when they get home from war
Y’all be too much lol. This is my third head cannon and the Mother’s Day one is still on the top of the likes list and I don’t know why like that one was my trash one and everything else I like put time and effort into. It’s like offering people a gourmet meal or Ramen noodles with chicken nuggets, lol I’m glad everybody does enjoy my Content though, and I hope that you all enjoy this one as well!
COD x Female Character
Warnings: PG-13, mentioning of sex, fluff, suggestion of angst
Captain John Prince
• when he gets home, he’s usually pretty tired.
• Don’t be alarmed if he just wants to sleep when he gets home.
• Usually you pick him up from the airport and he will load in his bags with a grunt and say that he could really use some good sleep.
• He smells like gun powder and dirt, even though he just took a shower.
• When he gets home, he will give you a kiss, then head off to bed no matter what time of day it is.
• He’s just that tired.
• When he wakes up the first thing he does is go back over to you and give you a proper kiss and a proper greeting.
• Make sure that you have some food for him. He’s going to be hungry, and he really needs some thing that’s more sustainable than MREs.
• He wants to hear about your life and what you’ve been up to while he’s been at work.
• Listening to you talk is one of his favorite past times and it helps him relax. Sitting in front of the couch while watching some TV show while you’re rambling on about the past months and about what you’ve been up to really brings a smile to his face.
• He likes to catch up on his reading.
• This man enjoys reading with a cigar in his mouth and a glass of bourbon.
• If you’ve picked out a new book for him to read, he will be gladly appreciate of of it.
• But most importantly, he would want you to be in his lap while he’s reading, but if you don’t like the smell of cigar smoke near your face, he will make sure not to smoke near you.
Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley
• Simon comes home as Ghost.
• The persona of a vengeful wraith and the shell of a once human is what your are graced with.
• He is very quiet, very solemn, and very cold.
• This is because he’s just dealing with his PTSD.
• He needs time to heal from recent encounters. This can take as little as one week to as long as three months.
• After badgering him enough times, to go see a therapist, he obliges.
• Though he’s pretty cranky about it.
• Give him space. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but right now, he doesn’t trust himself, especially with the nightmares raging through his mind.
• His nightmares are so vivid that it can be hard to distinguish Friend or foe.
• This is due to the fact that he needs to be working or else those vile thoughts come hunting him.
• He will never tell you about what goes on while he’s away.
• Once Ghost disappears, Simon takes his place.
• The poor broken man is just tired, and he just wants to lay next to you and hear about your day or months.
• Once you become stable enough, he begins to be more active around the house instead of just brooding in the bedroom.
• He hast to keep himself busy at all times.
• No rest for the wicked.
• Hast to sleep with a lamp on.
• Even though he seems harsh around the outside, he loves you deeply, and that’s why he separates himself from you for a certain time.
Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish
• Opposite of Ghost, Johnny is so excited to see you!
• As soon as he gets off the airplane, he runs over to you!
• This man is all over you before you even see him!
• He starts asking you 1 million questions about how your months have been and what’s been going on with his family and any news on the recent football (soccer) matches.
• You actually have to calm him down because he’s all over the place.
• When you get into the car, he is kissing you all over your face.
• This man has enough energy to run to the moon and back, and it shows.
• He’ll try to take you right there if only he wasn’t in a car confined by a seatbelt
• Johnny is quick to help around the house and do whatever task you need to do.
• He says he’s making up for lost time.
• If you’ve decorated the house in a new way, he will always compliment what you’ve done to it.
• Johnny wakes up early in the morning and practically begged you to join him on a hike.
• It could be down pouring for all he cares about but he really wants to be with you while he’s working out.
• He will bring you back a souvenir probably something stupid like a rock or a jar of sand.
• If he gets any scars, he shows you and starts pointing them out and tells you the story about each and everyone of them.
• He won’t go into great detail about how gruesome the battling was.
• He wants you to be in his life every step of the way, even if you’re at home.
Sargent Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
• Kyle is grinning from ear to ear when he sees you!
• He’s not as hyper as Johnny, nor is he a stoic as his captain.
• He has the perfect mix between excited and tired
• When you to get home, he says that you two should just order pizza and he’s dying to play a video game with you even if he’s a little tired.
• Kyle doesn’t go into a lot of detail about his work. He’ll just make an occasional gesture about what he saw what he did.
• Like soap, he’ll bring you back a souvenir.
• He actually takes time with his souvenir shopping though, and we’ll go to local markets installs to actually pick you out some thing that you might like.
• Happy to be with you and glad to be away from the fighting.
Commander Alejandro Vargas
• When he comes home, his first instinct is to drop his bags by the door, and bring you into a warm and passionate kiss and hug.
• As much as he loves his job and all of his soldiers and team, some thing about being at home with you makes him feel truly loved.
• He may be tired, but he still going to serenade you like it’s his last day on earth.
• If you haven’t started making dinner yet, he will help and participate with whatever you’re doing. He may be tired, but he’s never tired for you.
• He loves watching you move around the house.
• He’s not going to deny it, but you wearing his clothes and cooking dinner with him really turns him on.
• After dinner, he may propose a night in bed to you.
• This man serenades you in sex especially after he’s been away for a long time
• Physical touch is his love language, and he loves being with you.
Sergeant Major Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra
• Like his commander, when he comes home, all he wants to do is drop his bags and immediately embrace you and a warm hug while rubbing your head and whispering how much he’s missed you.
• He also wants to help you cook dinner, or do some thing, but if you go, tell him to take a shower and to relax, he won’t deny that he needs it.
• Rudy loves reading a book with you so after dinner he will want to skip the washing dishes and ask if you would like to read with him before going to bed. No matter what time it is in the day. If he’s tired enough, he will once to at least read a little bit before falling asleep.
• Once he’s asleep, the bags underneath his eyes seem to disappear. He knows you’re close and he knows that you’re safe and that’s all that he could ever ask for to make him happy.
König
• As soon as he gets off the airplane and sees you amongst the crowd of people, his anxiety stops, and he immediately makes his way to you.
• He can’t sleep on an airplane, but as soon as he’s in the car, he’s about ready to doze off. You have to remind him not to though, because waking him up or trying to drag him out of the car is near impossible.
• He is really trying hard not to pass out in the car.
• Once he gets home, he stumbles into the kitchen looking for a nice tall glass of water to drink, and a sandwich or two to eat.
• Make sure that you keep the sandwiches stocked.
• This man will then make his way to the bedroom, take a cold shower, get into some warm PJs, and then slip into bed.
• Once he’s asleep, he will stay in his hybernation for roughly 3 days.
• He will only wake up to use the restroom, get a drink of water, or to eat some thing.
• When his mind is on the battlefield, he rarely puts himself into a sleep state, but when he’s at home, it’s like all of the hours that he missed, sleeping or suddenly compiled in a single week.
• Just let him rest, and sooner or later, he’ll wake up from his hibernation, and will seek you out so that he can give you kisses and hugs and ask how your time has been away from him.
Alex Keller
• When Alex gets back, like everybody on this list, he is tired.
• His leg is very sore from the prosthetic. Prosthetics are not comfortable and cause I’m serious leg and back pain.
• He will ask very nicely if you could massage his leg for him when he gets home.
• Once he’s in the car, Alex is taking off that damn prosthetic leg and rubbing his stump.
• You can tell he’s in a lot of pain just by the way, his eyes crease, and a frown forms.
• In order to get him off of the pain, you talk to him about his time.
• This usually makes him perk up since he enjoys talking to you about his adventures.
• His personality is like a mix between Johnny and Kyle, but leans more towards Kyle.
• When you get home you’ll have to help him walk because he really does not want to put on his prosthetic.
• You just leave the bag in the car to get later.
• When Alex gets into bed, it’s like a huge sigh of relief washes over him.
• You can see how red and agitated his amputated limb is.
• You do what you can to make him feel better by applying some numbing cream and giving him some pain relieving medicine.
• He always feels better once you start massaging his leg and even more so if you give them a back rub.
• This man is a simple man and enjoys a simple massage after months of no rest.
Philip Graves
• Like a soldier from World War II coming home to meet his best girl.
• He always surprises you when he comes home and has one of his shadow men drive him to the house.
• He always buys you a huge bouquet of flowers and some pretty jewelry as well.
• When he walks through the door, he asks where his baby girl is.
• And of course you come running and giving him a huge hug and crying, which he immediately envelops you into a hug.
• He’s whispering in your ear with that southern drawl about how much she misses you.
• He gets a little into himself when he’s talking about how his mission is or how he was able to handle such a dangerous and daunting task.
• As egotistical, as this may seem, it is his way of expressing his love for you in a slightly weird way.
• In the evening, he’ll probably swoop you up into a dance, with both of you, smiling and laughing.
• He tells you how much he misses you and how much he loves you.
• In bed, he shows you how much he means both of those things.
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Star Light, Star Bright | Fatui Harbingers x (Fem)Creator!Reader
A/N: holy Tsarista, I did not think that it would be this popular. Thank you so much!! It's been a couple months since I got into Genshin, but I'm glad that the Harbinger trailer dropped cause otherwise, this probably wouldn't have existed lol. I apologize for the late update. I have been quite stumped in the plot and just taking a moment to come up with one. If I didn't tag everyone, I'm sorry! DM or reply to be added to the taglist! :3
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Summary: Caring for children is hard, but it's especially hard when around the Fatui. Getting isekaied was the last thing on your mind after landing in the icy tundra of Snezhnaya all while your nephew is with you. What will happen when you encounter not only a Fatui Skirmisher but a Fatui Harbinger?
Tags/warnings: female reader, God!reader, Cult AU,
Not edited or beta read, we die like Signora.
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Chapter 2: The Creator's Welcome
Silence.
What could be said while the entire palace and the surrounding area waited with bated breath for their Grace to awaken?
They were fervent - they waited to leave and search for the "meaner" that has done harm to their Beloved but that would leave their Previous Grace with only the Heir for company and guard.
The Precious Heir - they have heard of them only from what was written centuries ago. He was beautiful - he was innocent and was crying for their Grace to wake up all while the Harbingers stood by with the Tsarista finally making her appearance, rushing towards the bed that their Grace rested in, bending the knee and holding their hand.
"Your Grace. Your Excellency. Oh, my Beloved Creator. What has that Meaner done to you?"
Nugget never left your side as he clutched onto your waist, but being careful with your arms as he was told by the blue-haired man with the mask. He was a doctor and clearly knew what he was talking about so the little one made sure to listen well. The Doctor man and the others gave them a room which is what his Auntie expected and though he was focused more on taking care of you, it was nice to wander around the room all while the Harbin Gingers (It was some word that he had trouble saying) always came to check on him and his auntie and even gave him coloring books and sweets and fruits. It was all so good and he made sure to save you some whenever you were going to wake up.
But he especially loved the Tsarista and Columbia (Colombina)
They were very nice. They held him when you were still asleep and he couldn't be there for the operation.
For what seemed like forever, when it was only a matter of four days, the bed shifted as Nugget was reading the latest book that the guy with the funny hat gave him. He wanted to read it to you when you woke up and his wish was soon coming true as he felt movement and looked over to see your [E/c] eyes. He gasped and immediately snuggled into the sheets and wrapped his small arms around your waist.
"Auntie! You're awake! You're awake!"
Soft wet globs of tears started to stain your shirt as you looked down at the child who held you tightly and didn't want to let go. It would have been endearing if it wasn't for the fact that you had almost died from possible blood poisoning from ignoring your wounds. Your Nephew remembered seeing a lot of gold and despite still learning, he knew for a fact blood was red.
Carefully holding him up and ruffling his hair, you kissed his forehead and wiped his tears away.
"I'm sorry I made you worry, Nugget. I promise, I'll be sure to look after myself but my main concern was you."
That response earned a pout but your nephew thought it was good enough for now. If you weren't healthy and in one piece, how are you supposed to find a husband or a wife?!
"Just don't go to sleep anymore or at least for a long time. You made everyone worry!"
"Everyone?"
At the mention, your Nephew saw the clear confusion on your face and smiled brightly, but with a glint of mischievousness as he swiftly, with his small feet could go, hopped out of bed but careful to stay clear from your arms, rushed to the door and yelled out.
"Auntie [Y/n] is awake!" he said with a bright smile that was quite contagious, but it was last minute that you saw a figure by the door, or make it two figures. They had hoods over their head but it was the masks that covered their identities - the sheer happiness was clear from their body movements and one of them rushed out to who knows where while your nephew ran back to your side and started to share all the books he's read while you were recovering.
He's always had trouble reading so it was a feat itself to see him now reading at his supposed grade level. He still had trouble with certain words but nothing to worry about.
While trying to process all that was happening around you, you heard multiple footsteps before the door flew open, and in walked in about a dozen people.
Your face heated up at seeing all the gorgeous faces quickly surround you, pulling your nephew close to your side, weary of what else could happen. But you could have sworn that there was a hint of sadness in their eyes from your pull away from them.
"Don't be scared. They helped us! They helped you! Especially the Doctor man." Your nephew grinned as he held your hand and decided to make you sit up and face the group properly and pointed at the Doctor. The Doctor that he mentioned was practically preening from the praise like a peacock showing off its feathers.
The grip on his hand lessened as you looked at all twelve people one by one. It didn't take a rocket scientist to distinguish the power that they all radiated. Though at the time, you didn't know of the power you held yourself.
The elegant lady with long white hair, icy blue eyes, and who seemed to scream 'Ice Queen', slowly walked up to your bedside with a gentle smile as her hand moved to slowly hold yours. Now, you wouldn't have minded if it was your nephew or family, but this was a stranger. A stranger with a very firm grip despite how delicate it was.
"Now. How shall we punish the meaner that's done this to you?"
Eh?
-x-
It was... a change to have people cater to your every whim despite half of them being just jokes like bringing you the finest gem. The honor of bestowing such a gem was by none other than the 9th Harbinger, Pantalone.
Your nephew was having a great time, especially when he got to get along with a majority of the Harbingers and the Fatui, who took the mission of entertaining Nugget very seriously.
Once your arms were good as new, you asked for the group of Fatui soldiers that you and your nephew first encountered. At first, they were adamant about having you and Nugget leave the palace but you needed to get back to your car and get the rest of your things.
But funnily enough, you don't remember a palace or an organization going by the Fatui in your life...
Not to mention, these people seemed to recognize you and your nephew despite you two not knowing any of them.
If you thought of it more, a headache occurred and the Tsarista was adamant in asking you to save your energy and that it didn't matter if you recognized them. That all that mattered was that you and the Heir were fine.
While bedridden, your Nephew had the privilege to waltz around like he owned the place and even got you some books to read in the meantime. You saw mentions of a Divine Creator, a God-like figure that was first in creating the world around you and beyond, the one that made the stars and skies. A Divine Creator from the Beyond gave life to a speck in the skies and named it Teyvat and thus, its first child was born.
During a certain period when the Creator was roaming freely, they announced that their sister was with child and so, the Creator named the unborn babe the Heir to Teyvat.
The book was quite the read and wanting to know more about why the people around you and Nugget called you the Divine Creator and the Heir, you took it around with you.
"Your Grace, you must bundle up. Snezhnayan winters are quite brutal. People freeze to death here, quite literally in fact." announced a Fatui sniper, the one that first saw you and Nugget as he came behind you and placed a coat, courtesy of Pantalone of course, on your shoulders and your nephew too.
Stepping out to the brutal snow, instead of the harsh snow that you were expecting, it was a light snowfall that shocked the group of Fatui that decided to travel with you.
[Nephew's Name] stepped out from behind you and cheered happily as he rushed out to the snow and started to play, making snowmen and snow angels with, of course, the Fatui looking out and being won over by the child's heart-felt giggles.
They were all trying to make sense of why the snowfall was reduced to just light snow instead of the blizzards they're used to until they recalled that their Divine Grace and the Heir were right here with them. Teyvat was the Divine Creator's first child and as the loyal child it was, it could always sense where they were. Though Snezhnaya was the domain of the Tsarista, the Cryo Archon, the Divine Creator's word was Law.
Ehe.
Everything came to a slow stop as the world first heard the giggle from the Creator and with each step that you had taken, noticeable patches of green started to appear and grow more and more. The chilled winds of winter called down as the grey skies parted to make way for the rays of the sun.
The Tsarista felt the pause of winter, looking out that the frozen lands of her region have warmed up to what it had been long ago before her ascension.
Her Grace has given warmth back to the frozen tundras of Snezhnaya to the point that the flora and fauna basked in the sunlight. "Nugget. Be careful. The snow is melting."
And like that, the snow stopped melting just enough for your nephew to enjoy making snow angels.
'Welcome to Teyvat, Divine Creator!'
TAGLIST:
@lizzhearthz, @yoshikuno , @anonclyde , @khalhaimdad, @ellenoir
@yunsblog030 , @lsleepysimpl, @potol0ver, @kitty-chan33
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avocad1s · 2 days
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Trial By Combat - 6
Requested By: No one. Original Work
CW: manipulation?
Summary: Arlecchino’s got a secret…
Note: You all asked and I will provide! Here’s part six <3 this chapter is a bit slow but I promise it’s leading up to something great!
Part One —> Part Five
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Fontaine, for the most part, had finally begun to go back to normal. Although no trials have been held since the Creators trial, many shops have reopened their doors to the public once more. It’s as if Fontainians want to disregard the event entirely, treating it as a work of fiction like the Prophecy. However, this doesn’t stop The Steambird from posting every single update regarding the Creator, nor does it stop every copy from selling out.
Despite the lack of trials, it hasn’t prevented the Chief Justice from sending criminals to the Fortress of Meropide, and only hours from now, Paimon and Aether would be a part of the group sent there. The two were the only customers dining at Cafe Lutece this afternoon, the owner seemed almost eager to provide the gluttonous amount of food the duo had ordered.
“Oh Paimon is feeling a bunch of nerves right now and it’s just making her more hungry.” She whines while rubbing her stomach. “I’m just hoping that the food in the Fortress is actually tasty.”
Aether lets out a soft chuckle, “it’s a prison Paimon. I doubt that the food will be any good”
Paimon pouts crossing her arms. “Hopefully will be rightfully compensated for our due diligence. Oh! Maybe even something from the Creator themselves!”
The traveler gives her a look, “you shouldn’t think like that Paimon, not when they are currently missing right now.”
The travel guide immediately covers her lips, muttering out a small apology.
“Speaking of the Creator,” Paimon says, “do you really think Childe might know something? I mean, we’ve heard how he’s talked about them before.”
It was true, during their time in Liyue when they had met Childe, he had expressed how heavily he revered the Creator. Not just him, all of the harbingers they’ve met have mentioned the Creator in a positive light. Aether even recalls when the Wanderer told him that the only thing all of the harbingers could agree on was their ultimate respect for them.
“Based off our interactions with the Fatui before, they might have some respect for Their Grace. But we still have no idea why they want the Gnosis, maybe it’s connected to the Creator.”
Paimon nods in agreement. “You’re right. If the gnosis are what connect the Archons to Celestia, then maybe the Creator has something similar?”
“Hopefully if the Fatui got their hands on Their Grace, they haven’t left Fontaine yet. We should still be able to rescue them.” Aether adds.
“Paimon hopes so too! Oh I can only imagine the type of horrors they could be putting them through!”
“Are you talking about Their Grace?!”
A familiar girl with a pink bob holding a camera in her head pops out of a bush quickly approaching the table. It was Charlotte, and she had a large smile on her face.
“Do you two have any nuggets of information about Their Grace? Oh please share it with me, I’ll make it worth your while!”
Paimon and Aether share a look before looking back at the journalist.
“We don’t have any new information on The Creator.” Paimon explained, “we didn’t even know they had returned until Monsieur Neuvillette told us.”
Charlotte makes a look of surprise, “wait seriously? It was such big news! I’m sure everyone in Teyvat wrote the piece I had written.”
Charlotte places her camera on the table taking a seat across from them. “I’m just hoping for Their Grace to have a speedy recovery. I would love to interview them if they let me, it just seems like all of the big names in Fontaine never have the time for an interview. Monsieur Neuvillette and the Duke of Meropide have been on the top of my list for ages now!”
“Oh right, you’re a journalist Charlotte! ” Paimon exclaimed, “do you have an information about the Duke?”
Charlotte ponders for a moment, “not really, just the same regurgitated information I get from people who leave the Fortress. Why do you ask?”
“We actually are going to the Fortress later today.” Aether answers.
Charlotte’s eyes get as big as saucers as she’s jumping in her seat. “You two are going to the Fortress?! Will you two please get some information about the Duke for me?
Noticing the restrained looks on their face, Charlotte quickly adds, “I’ll pay for your meal! Yeah…! Let’s make it a deal, you get information on the Duke for me and this meal of yours is on me!”
Paimon grins, “it’s a deal!”
Charlotte shares Paimon’s enthusiasm as she pulls out a small bag of mora ready to pay for the meal. At that moment, the owner returns with multiple plates and bowls filled with various amounts of entrees and desserts wheeling it to the table.
“H—how much did you order…?”
———
Many journalist stood outside of the Palais Mermonia demanding answers from their Archon who had entered the building earlier that morning. Luckily, gardes stood outside preventing anyone from entering.
Inside of the chief justice’s office was him, the God of Justice, and the Champion Duelist whose hair was damp with sea water.
“I checked the surrounding area,” Clorinde says, “there is no traces of Their Grace anywhere. The only logical conclusion is that the Fatui must’ve done something with them.”
Neuvillette nods. “Thank you for looking Clorinde, your help is appreciated.”
Clorinde nods, “it’s no trouble. We all want Their Grace to be found safe and sound.”
Furina had a worried look on her face as she paces back and forth in the office. “W—what are we supposed to do now? We looked all over Fontaine and they aren’t anywhere.”
“Lady Furina.”
Furina stops pacing, turning her gaze over to Neuvillette who looked calm considering the situation. “I think it’s time to meet with the Kanve, wouldn’t you agree?”
“T—that Knave?” Furina stammers, “ha, why would we meet with her? Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”
Neuvillette clears his throat, “until we find Their Grace, we must operate like normal. If the others find out that we lost Their Grace—“
Furina lets out a breath putting on a confident stance, “yes! Right of course!” She interrupts, “I was thinking the same thing… I will prepare for the two of us to discuss relations with her as soon as possible.”
“Who said that I would be joining you?”
Focalors lets out a short gasp as she quickly approaches his desk, her gloved hands balling into fists. “Y—you expect me to attend the meeting alone! No! You must go with me!”
Neuvillette closes his eyes as he shake her head, “I must focus all my attention on the Creator, we must locate them before the rest of Fontaine and Teyvat begin asking questions. As the Archon, this is something you should be able to handle. Correct?”
Furina tenses slightly but lets out a sigh. “But… wouldn’t attending the meeting be the best thing for Their Grace?”
Neuvillette furrows his brows, “What do you mean?”
Furina’s confident flair was back just as quickly as it dissipated, “Attending the meeting will give us the chance to indirectly interrogate the harbingers before she even knows that we suspect her.”
Noticing the look on the chief justice’s face, Furina lets out a boastful laugh. “Naturally I, the God of Justice, would be the first one to think of this! Worry not Neuvillette, I believe that after this meeting, the truth shall be revealed!”
Clorinde mutters how she needed a towel and Neuvillette lets out a sigh.
“Very well... I will participate in the meeting.”
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In between Fontaine’s Lumidouce Harbor and Chenyu Vale, a large ship was anchored the familiar insignia imprinted in the sail. There was a plethora of Fatui agents stationed on the ship that it was overwhelming, it would be impossible to infiltrate the ship without being spotted.
Many of the agents weren’t even aware why there was such an urgency to return to the homeland. Curious glances and whispers spread throughout the ship like wildfire, wondering what could the Knave possibly be doing in the lower deck that no one else was allowed to enter unless they brought news from Fontaine. All of them knew better than to question their harbinger, but she hadn’t been seen since the night before.
“Your Grace.”
Arlecchino’s soft voice cuts through your thoughts. Fontaine was in danger and you were the only one who could help, at least that’s what she believed. It was only a matter of time before the nation was completely wiped off the map, Lady Furina has done nothing but bury her head in the sand.
You glance at her face, despite her sharp features she still had a soft yet powerful air around her. Maybe that’s why the children from the House of the Hearth trust her so much.
“Are you hungry? I have chefs on board, they can prepare anything you desire.” Her hand rested on top of yours, her long nails rubbing against your knuckles in a comforting way.
You were famished. You knew she was capable of, but she was making you feel so welcomed. It felt as if you could trust her, tell her anything and she would understand.
You nod slowly and she smiles.
“I’ll be right back.”
She stands up from her spot next to you leaving the room. Her luscious black and white hair that was pulled into a low ponytail flowed behind her. Arlecchino returned quickly letting out a soft sigh.
“They are preparing a Snezhnayian specialty, the food is quite delicious. I hope it’s to your liking” She commented placing her hand right back on top of yours.
“We will be heading towards Snezhnaya at sunset.” She says. “Although leaving Fontaine wasn’t originally apart of my plan, but considering the circumstances, changes had to be made.”
You furrow your brows. “The circumstances?”
Arlecchino nods. “Your power…or rather, lack there of.”
“I have a colleague, I do not trust nor like him very much but I cannot deny his intelligence, I believe he may be able to figure out the answer… or even Her Majesty may know.”
So there was a colleague within the Fatui who had extreme intelligence that might be able to help you. Maybe he would even know why you were healing so quickly? Or does that tie into your “godly” abilities too?
“Is that why we are leaving so quickly? Because of my supposed amnesia?” You ask.
The Knave shakes her head, “not necessarily. It’s mainly for your safety, you don’t wish to stay in a nation that tried to kill you, right Your Grace?”
You were forced into a corner with that question. Wanting to stay in a nation that almost killed you was bad, but wanting to go to a nation that had the capability to kidnap you wasn’t any better. Yet you had to pick your poison, and in that moment you decided—
“Right.” You reply. “Leaving Fontaine is the smartest option.”
“I knew that you would see it my way,” she praises, “I only want what’s best for you and all of Teyvat.” She gives your hand a squeeze a small smile spreading on her red lips.
A small knock on the door interrupts the moment, Arlecchino looks at the door her gaze becoming icy. “You may enter.”
The door opens and a young lady whose face is obscured by a mask enters and she immediately kneels.
“Y—your Grace… Lady Harbinger.” Her voice was almost breathless, her gaze transfixed on you. “I have news from Fontaine.”
Arlecchino lets out a sigh crossing her legs. “News? What is it?”
“Focalors has agreed to have a political meeting with you. The chief justice Neuvillette will also be attending.”
The Knave doesn’t even try to hide the smirk that spreads on her face, “Very well then. Was there a time mentioned for this meeting?”
“In the next few hours Lady Harbinger. We’ve already got a boat ready to return back to Fontaine’s harbor.”
Arlecchino stands, her gaze becomes soft once more when she looks back at you. “Your Grace, I will return as soon as I can. If you have any needs anyone on the ship will be more than happy to serve you.”
She exchanges a few whispers with the agent before giving you one last smile leaving the bottom deck. The agent looks at you one last time before stuttering out.
“I—I’ll go get your meal immediately Your Grace!” She rushes out of the door leaving you alone once more.
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The Fortress of Meropide was more grand than Aether had anticipated. Surrounded by Fontaine’s sea, there was no escape from this prison besides the path they embarked, which was at the rear of the Opera Epiclese.
After heaving their mugshots taken, Aether and Paimon are escorted onto a ship where they meet their tour guide, who is also just another prisoner within the Fortress. The entire tour he was standoffish and dry only giving the required amount of information. If the two asked for more information about credit coupons, secret rules, or about the Creator, he would say they’d have to pay for that.
The prisoner leads the two down the large hallway of the Fortress when multiple gardemeks came around the corner. The traveler immediately takes a stance ready for a fight when a voice eases his worries coming around the corner with the machinery.
“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide,” the man greets. He had dark clothing and dark hair with a scar under his eye.
“Y—your Grace!” The tour guide quickly says, his standoffish nature immediately disappears. “Lovely weather we’re having!”
The man glances over at the tour guide, “Hm? Oh yes, I guess the weather is nice. If we could see it.”
The prisoner lets out an awkward laugh as the Duke looks back at Paimon and Aether. “I’m Wriothesley, but you can call me Your Grace.”
“You’re the Duke of Meropide?” Paimon asks in a shocked tone. Wriothesley nods.
“So, how was your tour?” He asks, “was everything up to standard?”
Aether glances as the tour guide for a moment before giving Wriothesley a firm nod. “Yep. No complaints here.”
“Wonderful.” Wriothesley smiles, “I think we should be able to reward you with more credit coupons then?”
“T—thank you Your Grace! Thank you!” The tour guide says. He then looks over at the traveler, “and thank you for such kind words! If you ever need anything! Anything at all! Please come find me!”
Once he rushes off, the Duke turns his attention back onto the newcomers.
“So, is it normal for you to greet all newbies in person like this?” Paimon asks.
Wriothesley lets out a soft laugh. “No it’s not. I just heard that you two were friends with Neuvillette so I figured I finish the tour myself.”
“Wait, how do you know that?” Aether questions.
“The Fortress might look like it’s cut off from the rest of the world but word still travels fast. Just like what happened to Their Eminence.”
Paimon glances at the traveler briefly. Wriothesley continues, “Many people in the Fortress were ready to leave just for a chance at seeing the Creator. But since they are still in the hospital recovering, I managed to keep them under control.”
“What else do you know about the Creator?” Aether asks.
“Nothing really.” He responds, “I haven’t had the time to leave the Fortress and go visit them myself. Unless you’re talking about the basic information, there’s books all around the Fortress that can tell you that.”
Wriothesley continues on with the tour, showing the where the so-called cafeteria was, the Pankration Ring, and where they would report to work everyday. He also mentions Sigewinne, the nurse who looks after anyone who gets hurt or sick.
Lastly, he shows them where they’ll be sleeping. As he explains the procedures for their room, Aether gazes falls onto someone walking nearby. An oddly familiar magician.
Lyney stops walking and looks back at him, but once Wriothesley notices, Lyney lets out a soft laugh doing a dramatic bow.
“Well hello there Your Grace! It’s lovely to see you out of your office!”
Wriothesley crosses his arms, “it’s good to see you too, but shouldn’t you be reporting to work?”
The magician gives him a cheeky smile as he stands back up, “of course! That’s where I was heading right now! But these two must be very important to get a personal tour from the Duke himself.”
Wriothesley says nothing in response but Lyney quickly excuses himself, his gaze falling onto Aether once more before walking out of sight.
“Come on,” Wriothesley says, “there’s one last stop I’d like to make.”
———
The three sit at one of the tables in the cafeteria, the chef bringing over three welfare meals. They remove the lids revealing the delectable meals inside causing Paimons mouth to water.
“Oh is this what the food is like in the Fortress?” She rubes her hands together, “Paimon could get used to this!”
“Actually, I managed to pull a few strings to get this meal, after today, you might not get another meal like this.”
The fairy didn’t seem to be paying attention as she keeps shoving more food into her mouth. The traveler rolls his eyes at his companion, looking back at the Duke.
“So you said there was books in the Fortress about the Creator?” Aether asks, his fork pushing around his meal mindlessly.
Wriothesley nods. “There are groups within the Fortress to make people feel more welcome or comfortable. There’s quite a few revolved around Their Eminence. Prayer groups, wanting a stronger relationship, or just normal worship in general, they’re actually pretty popular.”
Paimon swallows the food in her mouth, “How do you feel about them?”
Wriothesley ponders for a second, “I don’t know anyone who has a negative view on Their Eminence, including myself. I would be honored to go up to the surface soon and share a cup of tea with them.”
Aether didn’t say anything in response, but he had a feeling that Wriothesley knew more about the Creator than he let on. He did say word travels fast from the surface, is it possible he already knows the Creator is missing?
“Anyways,” Wriothesley says, “I have other things to attend to, enjoy your time in the Fortress and try not to cause any trouble.”
The Duke gives one last farewell, leaving the table without another word. Aether and Paimon continue eating their welfare meals preparing themselves to adjust to their new situation and figure what exactly Childe may know about the Creator.
———
“You were right.”
In a dark corner of the Fortress, the twins from the House of the Hearth spoke in quiet whispers.
“Paimon and the Traveler, I just saw them.” Lyney explained.
Lynette’s ear lay flat on her head, her tail swaying slightly. “Monsieur Neuvillette must’ve told them and they’re here to investigate.”
“We have to do what Father told us to do.“ Lyney adds, “although playing ignorant to figure what they know won’t hurt either.”
Lynette lets out a sigh. “…and what about Tartaglia?”
Lyney shrugs, “what about him? He’s not here. We have to focus on the Creator. Without Their Grace, the Fatui won’t be able to—“
“I know.” Lynette interrupts. “Let’s just focus on the traveler for now.
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“I must say, the timing of this meeting seems almost convient…” Arlecchino narrows her gaze as she brings her teacup up to her lips.
“I’ll just cut straight to the chase. I’m here about my colleague, Childe and of course, Their Grace.”
The table inside of Neuvillette’s office was covered in sweets from Snezhnaya, something the Kanve brought to ease the tensions within the meeting. Yet, it doesn’t seem to be working.
“Childe was declared innocent by you, the Iudex, yet was still given a guilty verdict by the Oratrice…” Arlecchino explains, “and only days after that, you declare that Their Grace is an imposter and almost kill them.”
Furina shifts uncomfortably in her seat, “Y-yes… we are aware of our… transgressions. The Creator is being well looked after and is healing quite quickly.”
Arlecchino perks up, “Oh? They are? So is it possible for me to see them for myself?”
“That won’t be possible at the moment, I apologize.” Neuvillette quickly adds in.
Arlecchino brings a forkful of cake up to her mouth as she lets out a scoff. “An outright refusal? I must say, I am surprised…”
Neuvillette crosses his arms, “this meeting wasn’t called to talk about Their Grace, but rather Mr. Tartaglia, correct?”
“That is correct. Then am I able to enter the Fortress to check on the wellbeing of my colleague?”
“That also won’t be possible.”
Arlecchino sighs, “so I cannot see Their Grace and I cannot see Childe. What exactly will this meeting accomplish?”
“We already have a course of action for Their Grace.” Focalors adds, “but we cannot share it with you or any other nations for now. This meeting was just a… common courtesy”
“And as for Mr. Tartaglia I am investigating matter.” The chief justice adds.
“A common courtesy?” The Knave questions, “everyone in Teyvat is wondering just what exactly will Fontaine do after committing the biggest sin known to man… and all you can say is that it’s confidential? Not to mention the prophecy you refuse to address.”
Furina shoves another bite of cake into her mouth, scooting her chair closer to Neuvillette.
“As long as Their Grace is in our nation, they are under our jurisdiction.” Neuvillette explains.
Arlecchino clicks her tongue. “A disappointing outcome indeed… but I cannot say I am shocked.”
Arlecchino finished her tea, “the Fatui is willing to extend our help if you need it. You all seem to have a lot on your plate at the moment. Maybe it’s best to pass some of the responsibility onto someone else?”
“That won’t be necessary.” Neuvillette states.
The Knave stands from her seat, brushing her bangs out of the way, revealing her red X eyes. “I think it’s safe to say this meeting is concluded, I have to return back to Snezhnaya immediately.”
Furina raises a brow, “returing so soon? W—why such a rush to leave?”
It falls silent in the room for a few seconds.
“Her Majesty cares very dearly about the Creator, I am expected to report any and all news directly to her.” Arlecchino explains, her back facing the two.
“Snezhnaya as a whole cares deeply about Their Grace, and once they heal completely we will welcome them with open arms… not a trial.”
Focalors looks down at her lap as Arlecchino leaves the office returning to her ship anchored near the border of Fontaine and Liyue. A sinister smile spread on her lips while Neuvillette and Furina sit in the office in silence, a sour taste lingering in their mouth even with the baked goods in front of them.
-
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formulaforza · 1 year
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oh, simple thing— c.sainz
"the earth laughs in flowers" pairing: carlos sainz x female reader wc: 4.1k notes: guys remember when i used to write? back in january? crazy times. anyways.
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You were five years old the first time you proclaimed that you were going to marry Carlos. It came, of course, after the implication that you would also be marrying Prince Charming (as long as he didn’t keep your glass slipper–shoes are a woman’s best friend, your mom had told you once and you never forgot it) and the gym teacher at your primary school, whose crush you’d never admit to anyone but your mom. Can you imagine the teasing? Thinking a grown-up is cute? It’s completely preposterous… or, when you were five, super-duper silly. 
All three of the loves of your life were completely coincidental, coming to your brain while your mom read you a bedtime story completely coincidentally. You’d had gym class that day, of course. Played with the rolling scooters and argued with the older kids about getting a turn on the tube slide. Scooter day was always your favorite, so it was no surprise your teacher was in your good graces that evening. A
After dinner, while flipping lazily through channels on the big square television in the family room, your dad had clicked on the Disney Channel by mistake. Cinderella was halfway through and you threw a fit every time he tried to change the channel. You just thought she looked so pretty, in her big princess dress dancing at the ball. 
Carlos, what had Carlos done to be in your good graces that day…? He wasn’t in your class, so you couldn’t enlist him in the war of the slides or crash into him on the scooters. He definitely wasn’t running around your house after dinner. If he was, your Mom would still be cleaning up after him somewhere in the house. Carlos, Carlos, Carlos… what had he–oh! That’s right! The flower on the way home from school. How could you ever forget the first flower? He’ll give you shit for it later. 
Your mom and Carlos’ mom had been best friends long before you and Carlos burst into the scene. They liked each other more than just about anyone, and you never did understand how Reyes never tired of your Mother’s antics. She was always bossing you around, forcing you to clean up your toys and read your books. Carlos got away with whatever he wanted, his parents would even lie for him on his reading logs. Anyways, stay focused. Because your parents were such good friends, you and Carlos grew up side by side. Parallel play or bust, since neither of you were particularly apt at sharing. Everyday on the walk home from school, your moms would catch up on the gossip from the night before while you and Carlos tried to kill each other with various objects found on the sidewalk. This day, there had been eleven pebbles, two rocks, a stick, and Carlos’ metal water bottle (the one with the HotWheels logo on the side). Now, Carlos was charging at you with… a flower? A bluebell, one he’d picked straight from the ground, root and all hanging from his fist. When he held it out to you, you scowled. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. In fact, it was about as perfect as a bluebell from the sidewalk can get, but, you’re a little shit. 
“It’s dead,” you said, took it from him and tossed it aside. “It’s not nice to pick flowers, Carlito. It kills them.” He burst into tears and your mother scolded you the rest of the way home, even though it was her who always told you to leave the wildflowers wild. After some time and consideration (a plate of dinosaur nuggets, half of Cinderella, and a bedtime story) you’d decided maybe Carlos was right to cry about the dead flower. 
Carlos, it seemed, had gotten over the dead flower incident pretty quickly because, the very next day, he was already making a joke of it. He’d held up the walk home for fifteen minutes while he searched through a field in the park. Both of your mothers and Blanca had already shown him what had to be a hundred or so healthy, perky flowers. Carlos shook his head at each one of them, typical. You sat on the curb of the garden and played with the ants that had built a sandy hill beside your foot. You resisted the urge to stomp it, only because you knew you’d be lectured about leaving the bugs alone in the same way you were about leaving the flowers alone. After a lifetime–or enough time to have an after school snack–Carlos finally settled on the ugliest, most wilted flower you’d ever laid your eyes on. He presented it to you with a laugh and, because you’re just as stubborn as he is, you accepted the gift graciously and let it sit vaseless on your dresser for three days before someone threw it away. 
Truthfully, though, the real reason you probably proclaimed your intent to marry him that night wasn’t some flower. It was that Blanca had defended you from his water bottle strike with a pebble to the back of his head, and you thought that would be a good kind of person to have as a sister. 
Carlos was seventeen when he figured he’d probably end up with you eventually for the first time. There wasn’t anything romantic about it. It was more of an ah, fuck. It’s gonna be her, isn’t it? 
Your families were in Mallorca, touring some vineyard–well, your parents were touring the vineyard. You, Carlos, and all of the siblings had snuck off from the group one by one and met up in the grove just outside the property. Carlos was bumming a cigarette from Blana when Ana finally turned up, stomping her way through the grass and wildflowers annoyedly. Carlos takes a puff of the cigarette and passes it over to you. 
“You’re going to start a wildfire, you know?” Ana says, crosses her arms over her chest and pops out a hip all bratty. 
“Ana,” Carlos groans, “shut the fuck up.” You exhale a puff of smoke through a laugh. 
“If you’re going to be mean, I’m going back to Mom and Dad.”
“Okay,” he says, “have fun.”
“I will,” she proclaims, visibly annoyed that she isn’t drawing a reaction from her big brother. She loves to piss him off, everyone does, because it’s just so easy. “I’ll have sooo much fun telling them about how you’re all in the woods smoking. I’m sure Dad will love that, don’t you think, Carlos?” Blanca rolls her eyes. Sometimes it’s fun to mess with Ana, and sometimes keeping her humble becomes more of a chore than anything else. 
Ana stomps away, her whole sneaky journey wasted, the group’s entire smoke session ruined by the pesky baby sister who can’t decide if she wants more to be included or to be a tattletale. “Don’t kill any more flowers on the way back!” Carlos calls after her, passes the cigarette to you again for one last puff before the lot of you have to make your way back to the winery, to the bathroom you’d all claimed to need to use over the past hour. Ana turns on her heels to make sure Carlos can see her eye roll. He just smiles, and you think if Carlos was your brother you probably would have killed him with your bare hands a long time ago. 
You squat down to put the cigarette out in the dirt and Carlos digs a hole with his heel for you to drop it into, kicks the dirt back over it and stomps on it a couple times. “Fuckin’ snitch,” he mutters under his breath. 
He snatches up one of the stomped on flowers, pulls it from the ground–root and all–and presents it to you. “You really are such an ass,” you say, take the flower and link your arm through his for the remainder of the walk back. “I love you,” you add, “but you’re an ass.”
You were twenty the first time your friendship with Carlos became a threat to one of your relationships. It wouldn’t be the last time. You’d been together for seven months, you and Mateo, Mateo and you. Met at a club in Barcelona and the rest was history. It was a simple conflict of interest, a scheduling woe. You were forced to make a decision. Your boyfriend’s grandma’s birthday party… or Carlos’ debut in Australia. To you, it seemed like the easiest decision in the world. His grandmother isn’t even that old–she’s got plenty of birthdays ahead of her, ones that you’d be happy to celebrate. But Carlos’ debut? Really? That’s once in a lifetime. It’s the shit you just don’t miss, even if you’re in the hospital or literally on your deathbed (which Mateo’s grandma is NOT, by the way. She lived seven more years according to recent Facebook posts). 
“You’re going to Australia?” He’d scoffed when you told him, mentioned it so nonchalantly over dinner. When I’m in Australia, don’t forget to water the plants, or something along those trivial lines. He was just as offended as you were utterly confused. There’s no way he thought– “What about my abuela’s birthday?”
You’d laughed. The wrong thing to do, you know, but it was an action done without thought, without intention. “What about it?”
“You’re supposed to come with me.”
“I never said that,” you shake your head and he pulls a face. You set your silverware down and prepare for the coming argument. Normally, you’d just back down, but this is Carlos we’re talking about. Carlos, and his dream. Carlos, and his reality. “I didn’t,” you reaffirm. 
He leans forward onto the table, elbows shaking the entire thing, rattling the wine glasses and ceramic against the wood. “I assumed you–”
“–I don’t know why you would assume I‘d be doing anything except supporting Carlos,” you say, more defensive than you intend to be. It’s just, you can already see where this is going, even if it’s never gone there before. You’ve watched the girls Carlos brings home look at him the same way Mateo is looking at you right now, or more importantly, how he doesn’t look at you. 
“You know, I don’t either.” He nods, but it’s more of a full body movement, like he’s rocking forward, lips pursed and jaw tight. His eyebrows raise like he’s going to shrug, like he’s surprised with himself. You doubt you read the emotion right. “It’s always about Carlos, isn’t it?”
You lean back in your seat, cross your arms over your chest, close your eyes just long enough to hide the eye roll, and then you’re piling the silverware and the napkin onto the plate and moving the party to the kitchen sink. “I’m not doing this right now,” you say when you grab the wine glass carelessly. 
“Oh, so you know what this is about, then?” He calls after you, gathers his things sloppily and follows you into the kitchen. 
“You just said it’s about Carlos,” you say, slamming the sink on and clattering the plates into the bowl. Carlos had told you about these fights, about the ones he’s had with his girlfriends. You’d laughed about them, always thought it was so funny–the idea of someone left fuming by your friendship. The crazy assumptions, they couldn’t be more wrong if they tried. You and Carlos are nothing but platonic, you’ve always been platonic, you’ll always be platonic. When you know someone as long as you’ve known Carlos, they just become a part of you, build this little home in your soul that blends in so perfectly you could never cut it out with clean margins. It’s not just Carlos, either. It’s Blanca and Ana, too. Hell, it’s even Carlos Sr. and Reyes, but nobody ever seems to understand that. 
“It’s my Abuela,” he says, like you’re supposed to be moved or something, and he sets his dishes in the sink on top of yours. “It’s her birthday, and you’re supposed to come with me. I told my family you were coming.”
“I don’t understand why you would do that,” you start scrubbing the first plate with far more aggression than required. You’re not a good fighter, you get mean, and you get mean quick. “I was never not going to Australia.”
He laughs, leans against the counter with his arms crossed, staring at the ground, at the crumbs waiting to be swept up. “Because you’re never going to choose me over Carlos, right?”
“Mateo.”
“Answer the question.”
You freeze, squeeze the soapy sponge in a fist until there’s nothing left to ring out of it. “I’m certainly not going to choose your Abuela over my friend. Over my brother.”
“He’s not your brother.”
You sigh, go back to cleaning. “He’s like my brother.”
“Yeah, if you wanted to fuck your brother,” he says, and meets your eyes with wide, proud eyes like he’d done something, caught you in some illicit love affair. You resist the urge to grab the wand from the sink and spray him with a jet of water. 
Instead, coldly, you’d replied, “get out,” and pointed to the door. 
His hands shot up in some great defense. Or maybe it was offense, you really never could read him that well. “I see how you look at him.”
In. Out. In, and then out. Deep breaths. “I said leave, Mateo.”
“Because you know I’m right.” In, then out. “You know how fucked up it is that there’s three people in our relationship,” in, out. “Four, if you count Carlos’ girlfriend! What do you think she thinks about all this? You looking at her boyfriend like your favorite candy?” In, then. In, then–in, and then you slap him with a wet hand, the contact reverberating into a splash, coating the walls and the ceiling and the entire fucking room in anger. Anger, and dirty dish water. 
The anger is deafening, the room so quiet that the sink makes the kitchen sound like it’s directly behind a waterfall. 
He storms off into the living room. You return to the dishes, hear the jingle of his keys, the door opening. “Fuck you!” You call after him, but what you really mean is Fuck Carlos. 
When you get the breakup text a few days later, you’re not surprised. You put on your best face and pretend you never read it because while your boyfriend did just break up with you in a seven word text, you’re sitting out the back of the Toro Rosso motorhome watching Carlos pace.
You’ll tell him later, you think, after the race. And then, you don’t dare ruin the celebration, ride the high out until it can’t be ridden any longer. By the time you do get around to telling him, you’re all but moved on, mentioning it nonchalantly amongst the chaos of his first season. It falls away to the backburner, into irrelevancy, and Carlos never does ask what happened to sour the relationship. He does, however, have a wilted arrangement of flowers delivered to your front door with a handwritten note–ugly and dead, just like your relationship. You’d laughed for maybe twenty straight minutes. 
Carlos was twenty-four when he realized he was in love with you, that maybe he always had been. He’d just broken up with a girlfriend, one whose name he hardly remembers now. Alessandra… Alena… Adrianna–oh, screw it. It was definitely an “A,” and if it wasn’t, he’s sure it was a vowel. Not the point. He was twenty-four and had just dumped whatever her name was because it just didn’t feel right. (What does right feel like at twenty-four? And how do you know it when you see it? The world may never know). 
It was three races into the 2019 season, and he’d been having a particularly unlucky start with his new team. He’d spent the offseason relatively alone in Woking, finding his footing in a new place, a new team, a new car. Everything is gray, you’d told him the night he announced his impending move, scrolling through your phone at Google search results for the town. “It’s not gray,” he said, and without needing to say anything or flash him a look, he backtracked. “Okay, it’s a little gray.”
Three races in–an engine fire and two first lap collisions–in, and everything is feeling pretty gray, not just his rainy apartment (flat, he’s been taught to call it) in Woking. The cards felt stacked against him, and reluctantly, he’d called in reinforcements to Baku, a couple of good luck charms in the form of the people he loved. You, Ana, and Blanca flew in together and made Carlos come pick you up from the airport himself. 
You climbed into the backseat and were anything but gray. You were glowing, completely and utterly sunkissed, and your hair was messy from travel but it reminded him of what you’re like after a good nap. Groggy and sleepy and desperate to stretch out like a cat. He hates that he knows how you like to stretch after a nap, the exact pattern of movements you do. Do you know how much time you have to spend with someone to memorize their post-nap stretch routine? Too much time, that’s how much. 
You got into his car, all bright and sunny, and sure, his sisters were there and he loves them so much. But, you’re here, and you’re bright and sunny and everything feels just a little less gray. He pulls out from the airport and while he doesn’t realize that he loves you just yet, he knows something in him has been chemically altered by your smile, irrevocably so.
It’s Sunday when he realizes, somewhere between the checkered flag and the team debrief when you and the girls appear, practically crash into him like you’d been dropped down into the garage right from the sky. He hugs you, and you smell like sunshine. He wants to bash his head into the wall of his driver's room, to lay in front of Lando’s car and ask him to run him over because he’s not supposed to take note of the way you smell (unless it’s to call you out for smelling like shit). 
You kiss his cheek and shove his shoulder because you’re so happy for him, because you’re always so happy for him. He doesn’t think it’s fair for someone like him to always have someone this happy for him. He loves that about you. He loves everything about you. He loves you. Fuck, he’s in love with you. 
Lando nearly pees his pants over a tweet the next day. Carlos has reached a new level of Carlos-ing, it read, with a picture of him visibility distracted while being fed to the media pen. He can’t tell his teammate that the reason he’s so distracted is because he’s internally debating the pros and cons of ruining your friendship forever. 
You’re twenty-four when you and Carlos start dating. The two of you drag it out for as long as humanly possible, stretch the patience of everyone around you so thin they won’t be surprised (or concerned) at the idea of you and him getting together. It’s scary. Really, really scary to admit your feelings for each other, to tell the rest of the world about it, but Carlos keeps bringing you these mis-shapen flowers, ones where the dye is soaked up poorly or they’re a couple days too wilted. It’s our thing, he would always say, and kiss you while you cut the stems to fit in your favorite vase. 
He was right, it was something that was just yours. There was nobody else actively searching out dying flowers in the shops or carefully picking the dirtiest wildflower from its root on an evening walk through the city. That was just the two of you, and nobody else understood it. 
“It’s gross,” a friend told you, twiddling one of the half-dead flower stems between her fingers while you shared gossip over glasses of wine. “You got these today and they’re ready to be thrown in the bin.”
“You don’t get it,” you’d swatted her words away. The dead flowers weren’t understood, and they didn’t need to be. They were special to you and Carlos, and when it came down to it, nothing else mattered to you. 
“Seriously, though,” she’d continued, “It’s… I don’t know. Dead flowers, it’s just weird.”
Carlos is twenty-six when you break up. It’s mutual, it is. Even when it doesn’t feel like it’s mutual, when either one of you desperately searches to blame the other for the pitfalls, it’s still mutual, still two people who love each other. Who just aren’t in love with each other anymore. 
There’s a lot of reasons if you want to get into it, but his new drive is the catalyst for pretty much all of them. Carlos is with Ferrari now, which is the dream, but it's also the nightmare. McLaren is iconic and historic but Ferrari… well. Everyone knows the Vettel quote, everyone knows the kid’s car is red. Ferrari’s Ferrari and you’re just… you. Time runs out, patience runs thin, and that’s the end of it. 
You’re twenty-seven when you see him for the first time post-breakup. It’s a setup by your parents. Mallorca and the vineyard, again. You don’t think anything of it, so much has happened in the last decade and Mallorca is half of Spain’s favorite vacation destination. 
He’s sitting with his family at the bar, the whole clan of them sipping from a wine-tasting tray. His eyes shoot up to meet yours with the loud creak of the old, heavy doors. He does a double take, and your stomach turns into a ball of knotted necklaces. 
During the same tour you’d been on all those years ago, you sneak off with the same excuse you’d used. Blanca and Ana don’t follow after you to debate the environmental damages of bumming a cigarette in the grove or to threaten to snitch on you to your parents. They stay behind and listen and you stomp through the wildflowers to get some air. You’re already outside, Carlos would say if he were there. You’re my dirty air, you’d tell him, and he would roll his eyes, shove his hands deep in his pockets and rock on his heels. 
He knows you’re not in the bathroom, there isn’t a single nerve in your mind that thinks he doesn’t know exactly where you are. He doesn’t sneak off behind you. You gather your thoughts in the grove by yourself, leant against a tree older than you’ll dream of being. You pick a wildflower, one that looks picture perfect, snap it carefully from the root and stick the stem behind your ear. 
When you return to your party, they don’t notice you’ve been gone for far too long to use the bathroom or that you’ve got a flower in your hair. Well, all of them except Carlos, who slows his walking pace to drop to the back of the group next to you. “Nice flower,” he comments quietly. 
You nod, watch your feet as they move in synchronized steps with him on the grassy path. “Thanks.”
“It’s dead,” he adds, and you smile dimly. “It’s not nice to kill the flowers.”
Carlos is twenty-eight when he’s perusing the birthday card section at the local gift shop. He’s trying to find one that perfectly sums up his birthday wishes for you. It has to be sunny and happy and so, so sorry for everything (even when it’s nobody’s fault). It has to say, I’ll always love you without saying I am still terribly in love with you. It has to be subtle and obvious and endearing and serious and funny. It has to be everything his words can’t be. 
He eventually settles on one, tucks it into the yellow envelope and licks it shut. He handwrites your name on it messily, like you could get confused about who it’s for and need a label, or like he has a stack of yellow envelopes for dozens of other people sitting sealed on his kitchen counter. He goes to the florist next, picks out a stock arrangement from the fridge and a package of flower seeds. The final stop on his city tour is your apartment. Three knocks on your door, and then you’re undoing the deadbolt. 
“Hi,” you say, confused by his presence on your welcome mat. 
“Happy Birthday,” he smiles. “This is the last time I get you dead flowers.”
You and Carlos are thirty at your wedding. He cries when you walk down the aisle and there isn’t a single real flower in your bouquet. It’s all fake, and one of your friends asks if you’re worried it might look tacky or cheap. Anyone who thinks that shouldn’t be at our wedding, you’d told them. 
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