#but for julian i think it was more of an eye-opener like. he wanted to exonerate garak of all his crimes to try to justify his crush on him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-modern-typewriter · 10 months

Text

The Art of Turning 30

“So, am I allowed to talk?” Annabelle gave an awkward little laugh, that she immediately wanted to stuff back into her mouth. “I’ve never done this before!”

“You can talk.” Julian flashed her a quick, reassuring smile. “At least until I tell you not to.”

They both laughed, then. Julian’s laugh was not awkward.

It was six months until her thirtieth birthday.

She had met him at her girlfriend Camille’s twenty-ninth birthday party, a few weeks ago, only to be surprised that they’d somehow never crossed paths before. London was big, but it wasn’t that big surely, and Julian was an artist.

Annabelle felt like she spent half her free time at artsy bohemian parties and amateur gallery openings, though maybe that was why. He wasn’t an amateur, was he?

She’d looked him up online after and seen several shining reviews of his first exhibition, and a rosy buzz of anticipation at what he’d do next.

She remembered that buzz. People used to get that buzz when they talked about her. Apparently, his work was ‘visceral’ and ‘felt startlingly alive’.

It seemed impossible that he wanted to paint her, of all people.

Annabelle shifted on the stool, glancing around Julian’s studio space as he finished setting up his easel and paints. Oils. He’d said he was using oils. That mattered in painting, didn’t it?

The studio was everything she’d always imagined a professional artist’s studio to be. It was quite large, with clean wooden floors and white walls crowded with stacks of sheet-covered canvases in progress.

There was only one that was ready and visible; a painting of a beautiful blond man, probably nearing thirty too, lounging on the same stool that Annabelle was perched upon. He gazed out at the viewer with a hungry sort of hope. Like they were the best thing he had ever seen.

The studio smelled like drying paint and the sandalwood diffuser wafting its calming scent from the window sill. Sunlight coated the room like honey, or gold.

“You’re not going to make me look ugly, are you?” she asked.

He smiled again, meeting her eyes. “I couldn’t possibly.”

He probably flirted with all of his models, but she still felt a blush of heat rise to her face.

He looked like he could be in a painting, or one of those classical sculptures still concerned with archetypal ideals of beauty. Of course, she was with Camille, so nothing would happen…but still. The attention made her heart pound. Camille was usually too tired from work to flirt with her anymore.

Annabelle wasn’t sure how good she’d be at seeing a painting of herself that she hated, and not letting it show on her face. She’d probably tear up. It would be embarrassing for both of them. She shifted on the stool once more, and tugged at the hem of her summer dress.

“This is for your next exhibition?”

“I think I’m going to call it ‘The Art of Turning 30’.”

“Explains why I’m your muse instead of some gorgeous twenty two year old ingenue.” She laughed again. He did not. She continued, even as she willed herself to stop babbling, because he wasn’t looking at her with the expectation that she do anything. He plucked up a pencil, beginning his work. “It’s like, when you’re a woman, after you turn thirty your life is over, right? It’s like with my acting. And then by the time you’re forty all of a sudden all you can possibly be is, like, a mother or a witch. Or, you know, the dead wife. It’s all downhill.”

“You wouldn’t want to be a witch?” He raised a brow. “They always seemed pretty powerful to me. I could see you as a witch.”

“But do you know what I mean?”

“Can you turn your head a little the left, please?”

“What? Oh. Yes.”

She turned her head to the side, towards the window, and hoped the sunshine made her seem younger rather than highlighting every growing crag and wrinkle.

She could only watch him out of her periphery vision now; a wistful muse, seemingly unaware that she was being observed. She tried to look deep and mysterious.

“Perfect,” he said. “Thanks. You’re just perfect.”

The canvas of the blond man fell to the floor with a soft thump.

Annabelle jumped.

“Sorry.” Julian shook his head, another easy laugh on his breath. “The landlord never lets me put proper hangings on the wall here. Says it wrecks them. I guess so long as they don’t do that at the exhibition?”

“I don’t know, you could probably play it off as a stunt…lean into the photorealism.”

“Now, there’s an idea. Genius.”

She probably didn’t look deep and mysterious. She probably just looked smitten.

***

She sat for Julian three times a week for the next several months.

It became a pocket of peace in her life, the hours when it was okay to finally stop and be for a while, because everything else seemed to be hurtling through her fingers faster than she could clutch hold of it.

She’d always imagined that she would be a successful, or at least up-and-coming, actress and screenwriter by the time she turned thirty.

Sure, women only made up around 30% of the directors or writers behind the camera, but back in school everyone always said that maybe she’d be the one to change that. She wasn’t entirely sure when they stopped saying it, but they had.

It was three months until her thirtieth birthday.

“Here.” Julian caught hold of her chin, featherlight, angling her back towards the sun. The days were getting shorter. Time was running out for them both. “You were like this.”

She had got in the habit of always sitting a little wrong, because he’d always adjust her, oh so careful and attentive, like she was his masterpiece.

She would have probably preferred to be her own masterpiece, but being his seemed like the second best option. She could practically feel the ghosts of forgotten, underappreciated female muses-past screaming at her that no, it was always better to be somebody than someone’s, but frankly she wasn’t sure she could be picky.

She’d been getting less and less call backs, and was starting to feel more like she was a part-time waitress dabbling at film than a part-time actress-filmmaker working hours in hospitality to make ends meet.

It was like a window was closing. Her window. That morning she’d found an honest to the devil grey hair on her head!

Camille told her that she was being ridiculous – that she’d become increasingly vain since Julian started painting her.

Annabelle had snapped back that vanity wasn’t vanity for an actress. Her looks were her currency.

It hadn’t always been so hard, had it?

All in all, it didn’t seem like a sin to let him touch her. It was nice to be touched. There was nothing untoward in that.

She peeked up at Julian, standing over her, his star ever on the rise. Their stares met again. He smiled that quick, reassuring smile of his.

“You look tired,” he said softly.

“Sorry.”

“No, no.” He widened his eyes. “I didn’t mean—” he huffed gently, and let go of her. “I haven’t got to your mouth yet. If you want to talk about it.”

Annabelle grinned back before she could stop herself.

It had become a standing joke. She sometimes felt she spent their whole time together talking about herself, but he always said it was interesting and made the hours fly. He was a very good listener.

More privately, she sometimes suspected that he was leaving her mouth for last just so they could continue chatting, but she wasn’t allowed to see the painting to check. The thought was thrilling though.

“It’s nothing,” she said, even if she already knew she’d probably tell him everything on her mind. “I don’t know.”

What would she do when the painting was done? She’d see him at his exhibition opening, probably, but there would hardly be a reason for them spend time together like they did when she was sitting for her portrait.

Maybe it was silly to consider him one of her friends. She’d miss it, though. She’d miss him.

Maybe he’d want to do another one of her, but who was she kidding? Maybe in ten years, when he did a gimmicky but charming follow up. The Art of Turning 40: Where Are They Now?

What did he know about turning thirty anyway? He couldn’t be more than twenty-five. He had loads of time.

“There’s an intimacy,” he murmured, “to painting someone. Especially like this, in the old fashioned way. A lot of people use photographs and quick studies because they’re more convenient and you don’t have to catch the right light, you know? But I love it.” The air filled with their breathing, and the soothing dab of his paint brushes on his palette, mixing up the colours of her. “You really get to know people this way. It adds soul to the work. It’s magic.”

She felt, more than saw, his gaze cut over her again. Her blood was electric beneath his scrutiny.

He continued, softly.

“I knew from the moment we met that I wanted you to be my centrepiece for this one.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true!” He laughed. “You have this great energy. I knew you were going to be interesting, and I was right. And you know how to model well. Because you’re an actress, right? You’re used to people looking at you.”

An actress, no ‘wannabe’ or ‘aspiring’ or ‘failed’ tacked on front. She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him as best she could without turning her head.

“My boss always says I should have more energy, then I’d wait tables faster.”

“What does Camille say?”

“Camille—” Annabelle blinked in surprise, then swallowed. Her hands curled in her lap. She resisted the urge to sigh.

“Uh-oh.”

“No, no,” she said. “It’s fine. I just – she thinks if I’m not happy I should do something about it. She’s always telling me about other things I’d be really good at that have better pay, or more sociable hours.”

“So, give up on your dreams already.”

“Yeah.”

Annabelle deflated. She knew that Camille didn’t mean anything bad by it, but that was what it implied, right? She was never going to be a famous and successful actress or screenwriter, so she should settle for something manageable.

“Well, she’s not a creative, like us,” Julian said. “She doesn’t get it.”

Like us. Annabelle was a horrible girlfriend for feeling a swell of pleasure at that. It was true, though. Still.

“We’ve been together for a really long time, and she’s been really supportive. I think she’s just finding the whole ‘me turning thirty’ thing annoying. Mainly because I won’t shut up about it. Which I’m sure you sympathise with!”

Camille said that anyone who claimed life stopped at thirty was an idiot. There was no limit for potential, no one age where everyone had to have their life together and perfect by.

She was probably right, but Annabelle could still feel the panic of it clawing at her the closer her birthday got. Even if she was successful after thirty, she wouldn’t be one of those young geniuses that everyone had expected her to be. She wouldn’t be exceptional.

She would just be Annabelle. It didn’t feel like enough. Maybe if she could see herself like Julian apparently saw her, it would be better.

“Chin up,” Julian said.

Annabelle cleared her throat again. “Right, yeah.”

“No, I mean.” His voice was deadpan. “Your head. You’ve moved. Drooped.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder. The melancholy shoved itself down again in the pit of her stomach.

He tossed her a wink from behind the easel, to indicate he was joking. Only trying to cheer her up and lighten the mood.

“So, I still don’t get to see what else you’re working on, huh?” she asked.

“I’d have to kill you.” He switched to another, smaller brush in her periphery vision.

She snorted.

“It would be very inconvenient all around,” he said. “Rigor mortis sets in fast. I’d never get the painting done in time.”

“Well we can’t have that. After you’re finished with me then, I suppose.”

“Our art is a part of us, Annabelle.” He shot her another glance in turn, brush poised above his image of her, considering. “So how, then, could I ever truly be finished with you?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. She debated possible responses to that, and how he could have meant it. Her body felt warm and flushed.

He gestured that she angle her head left once more, not looking away for a second himself.

Annabelle turned.

The summer waned outside the window, but in the painting she would still be in her sundress, legs tanned and toes painted sky blue.

Thank god he kept his studio warm. The minutes ticked by, the air between them settling tranquil once more.

“Sometimes,” she said, softly, “I wish we could stay like this forever. Freeze the moment. Is that stupid?” It felt a confessional thing to say. Bold.

“No.” She could hear the equally soft smile in his voice. “It’s not stupid. Isn’t that how I got you to agree to do me this favour?”

She remembered the party; an adult version of what they all used to do, even if it still felt like they were all pretending to be grown-ups. Or at least, Annabelle felt like she was pretending. She didn’t feel twenty-nine.

She’d clutched her glass of wine and hovered near a somewhat strained conversation about mortgages and the state of the housing market, and how none of them were going to be on the property ladder before they were fifty, before she caught sight of Julian coming in.

She echoed his words, and didn’t have to fake her wistfulness that time.

“To be remembered in art is the closest any humans’ get to immortality.”

He echoed the next line back at her. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

And she’d said yes.

***

“I’ve got a date for the exhibition,” Julian said, from behind his easel. “A few weeks after your birthday. Short notice, I know. Soz.”

“Ugh, don’t mention the B word. But that’s exciting! Can I come?”

“Of course you can come,” he said. “It’s why I’m telling you. This wouldn’t be possible without you.”

“I mean, while sitting here is terribly difficult,” she said, “I do feel like you should get some of the credit. Just some.”

She heard him laugh.

She’d grown to love Julian’s laugh; he was so ready to do it, at least in their sessions.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Camille laugh at something she said. Then again, she wasn’t sure the last time she and Camille had spent all that much time together.

By the time Camille got back from a day of teaching, Annabelle was usually already out for the night shift at the pub she waited in. Yet another thing in her life that wasn’t working like it was supposed to!

Camille said that could be worked on if, hey, Annabelle was willing to actually prioritise their relationship.

It had been one of their worst arguments to date.

“There’ll be thirty paintings in total, I think,” he mused, more talkative than normal. “Yours being the main one, like I said.”

“I’m sure you will perfectly capture the raw turmoil of turning thirty.”

He laughed again. It had been one of the most notable reviews of his first exhibition – except the exact wording had been that his work perfectly captured ‘the raw turmoil of adolescence, as an emotional and nostalgic period of change and growth’.

He’d finally caved and showed her some of his previous pieces, other than the ones she’d managed to find online, as a compromise of his refusal to show her how his painting of her was coming along.

Most of the individual pieces from his first exhibit had been sold off, but he’d kept the main one.

His main piece – Girl On Swing – got the most praise, so it had apparently been a bit of a scandal that he hadn’t sold it. He’d had offers.

It was a triptych (Julian’s word) of a girl, unsurprisingly, on a swing.

In the first of three paintings she was a child, carefree and giggling. In the second, a young teenager, her face a storm of emotion. In the final one, she was a young adult, caught mid-leap flying off the swing she’d been sitting on for seemingly eighteen years. Her arms were painted halfway to transitioning to a bird’s wings. She was no longer looking back at the viewer but forward, to all that life had to offer.

Annabelle wondered what people would say about Julian’s version of her.

People liked to fantasise about how amazing being a teenager was when they were an adult, but she hadn’t met anyone who fantasied about turning thirty. It wasn’t nearly as glamorous.

She hoped he made her glamorous.

“Of course,” he was continuing, “with the date so near, we might need a few more sessions to get finished on time.”

She looked over at him again, then, even if she wasn’t supposed to be moving.

The golden light danced across his handsome features, and caught the edges of the canvases behind him. There were twenty nine of them waiting.

“I make a pretty good lasagne,” he said, biting his lip. “If I say so myself. Compensation. If you don’t mind finishing late. There’s also a nice wine I got for Christmas that I really couldn’t drink alone.”

“I don’t mind,” she heard herself saying, before she’d even thought about it. “I don’t mind at all.”

“It’s a good venue,” he said. “A really good venue. Everyone’s going to love you.”

With him, maybe, the window wouldn’t close.

***

“I’m done, except for the varnish.”

The words sent a bolt through her, stirring away the sleepy content that came with posing for an extended period of time. She felt seen. Now, though, she wanted to see. Finally.

It was the day before her thirtieth birthday, and Camille had a massive surprise party planned, that Annabelle was both pretending that she didn’t know about, and dreading like a punch to the gut.

It was sweet that Camille was doing it. But also, maybe, if she didn’t celebrate the date she could still, somehow, be in her twenties for another year. That was how it worked, right?

“You are?” She leapt off the stool, and felt her joints click. “Can I see? I feel like I should have a right to see before everyone else. I won’t tell anyone.”

“It is top secret.” He pretended to consider.

She took the opportunity to relish actually looking at him for once; there was a kiss of red on the cuff of his painting shirt that hadn’t yet dried. It was the exact colour of her lipstick. She smiled.

He really had left her mouth for last.

“Fine,” he said, and gestured her over, eyes bright with amusement. “But only because I know you won’t tell.”

In the short space of walking over, Annabelle had time to feel her stomach clench. Her old fears boiled nauseously to the surface.

What if it was awful?

What if it wasn’t what she wanted, as if that had ever been the point?

What if her immortality looked like the part-time waitress she didn’t want to be?

She would have to keep a straight face, and not hurt his feelings. He’d been working on it for so long. It would ruin everything if he knew she hated it. It would no doubt be technically very skilled. She should have researched painting techniques she could comment on.

She rounded the easel, a little dizzy.

His hand fell on the small of her back, thumb tracing the curve of her hip, idly almost.

She stared.

Her painted self was lovely. So alive, as if thirty couldn’t possibly contain her.

It was not as realistic as ‘Girl On Swing’ though.

She was caught in the motion of talking, hands gesturing animatedly in the air despite her best efforts of posing, and though her face was turned towards the light of the window it was as clear as confession that her eyes were always turning towards him, trying to steal a glimpse.

She looked at him, at the viewer, like he was the best thing she had ever seen.

Camille would see the painting too.

She had already said that she had to come to the opening, especially ‘after all the time her girlfriend had spent with this Julian fellow instead of her.’

Annabelle swallowed.

The perfect bubble burst.

She released a shaky breath, abruptly more aware of his hand through the thin material of her dress.

They hadn’t done anything.

Even the night when she ended up staying over at his, after lasagne and wine, they hadn’t done anything.

The painting made it look like they had, though. She wasn’t even sure she could accuse Julian of exactly making it up, either.

He had painted the truth. Raw. Even when it would have been politer to hide it.

“Oh,” she said. “Wow. Um. Julian—”

“Happy Birthday,” he murmured. “For tomorrow.”

His hand moved up to the back of her neck and all of the colours of the painting swirled and rushed forward to meet her.

“Oh, and Annabelle?” His voice sounded very far away. “This is the bit where you stop talking.”

***

Annabelle had been thirty for nearly a month. Well, not exactly.

They all said that she looked amazing. So realistic.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her body. But, she could watch, from her frame.

She’d watched as Julian approached her with a paintbrush dipped in varnish – to seal the work – and she’d watched with her world turned sideways as they carried her canvas from the studio to the gallery.

She’d watched as they hung her up on the wall and made comments about her like she wasn’t there at all.

She’d screamed, too, or tried to. They hadn’t been able to hear her.

Julian had approached her again when they were alone, hands in his pockets, perfectly relaxed and pleased with himself.

“It’s a good trick, isn’t it? I’ve always had the knack of turning people into portraits.” He’d flashed her the same quick, reassuring smile he always did as he peered up at her. “As I said, it’s all about getting to know the person. Getting them to pour their soul out to you.”

He’d laughed, like he so often did, only this time it was at his own joke instead of hers. Or maybe she had always been the joke.

“I did worry for a moment that I wouldn’t be finished in time. But, don’t worry. We made it. You’re twenty-nine forever! Just like you wanted. Just like I promised. I’m not that cruel.”

She’d wanted to tell him that this was not what she’d wanted. She wanted to ask a million questions. She wanted to punch him.

Instead, Annabelle watched as Camille stepped into the exhibition room, on opening night.

She watched Camille scan the crowd, feverishly, expecting her to be there.

She watched as Camille’s attention snagged on the vast painting of her across the room.

God, Camille.

Her girlfriend made a beeline over. It had been an age since Annabelle had last looked at her, properly looked at her, hadn’t it?

Camille’s face crumpled a little as she studied the portrait; a myriad of regret and fear and confusion. Hurt. Her eyes were red and swollen like she’d been crying. She raised one hand towards Annabelle’s life-sized face, as if to touch, but didn’t. Her fists curled at her sides instead.

Guilt twisted in Annabelle’s gut. Camille looked exactly like how one might when learning that their girlfriend had cheated on them.

She felt an absurd surge of hope, despite everything, that Camille might see her where no one other than Julian had. The portrait, for all of its intimacies, suggested a grand love affair. People didn’t vanish fairly from grand love affairs, they just didn’t! It was suspicious, right? He was the last person to see her. The proof was in the painting!

Camille stared at her for a moment longer, her jaw set with grim determination. Then she scrubbed a hand over her face. Her shoulders hunched against some unbearable, undefinable weight. Her dark hair was greasy with worry.

“I’ll find you,” Camille still whispered. “I swear, I’ll find you.”

Annabelle’s stomach sank.

“No, Camille—” Of course, the words didn't come out. Nothing did.

She’d had been such an idiot, hadn’t she?

She felt a fresh stab of longing for that surprise birthday party.

How long had they waited for her to arrive? Waited for her.

Had Camille reported her missing? There would be no body to find, no evidence. The painting, the wanting limited eyes she looked out of, felt like a mockery.

Maybe the life she had with Camille hadn’t been perfect, not by a long shot, but at least they’d been alive. At least they’d been real.

Camille began to turn away.

“Please.” Annabelle’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry. I’m here, please. Don’t leave me! Camille!”

More attendees bustled to claim prime spot in front of the painting, murmuring about how talented Julian was, speculating on if Annabelle was his lover. Camille flinched.

“It makes me feel,” one of gallery attendees said, “like I’m interrupting them in a private moment, you know? Of course, it’s so Julian that she’s not actually a nude—”

She couldn’t see Camille anymore.

She was never going to see Camille again, was she?

CAMILLE. CAMILLE. CAMILLE.

Annabelle screamed it with everything she had, every atom of her, with the absolute certainty that if her girlfriend walked out the gallery door that Annabelle would never escape the painting.

She would never get to say sorry, or kiss Camille, or tell her properly that nothing had happened or would ever have happened, despite what she may have let her foolish heart feel.

She’d just liked the way he looked at her.

She didn’t want to stop the clock.

She wanted her life back, to live.

The painting hit the floor of the exhibition with an almighty crash.

Everyone scattered back. Red wine spilled like a crime scene against the polished floor.

Camille whirled back around too, alone a few metres away, her eyes wide and startled.

Julian appeared, clutching a glass of champagne in one hand.

“Goddamn these hooks. Who set this up? It’s a hazard. Everyone alright?” He looked around at his adoring fans, and summoned up a rueful smile. “I should have just got eyes to follow you all around the room instead, huh?” He looked down at her, where she stared up, in the same narrow periphery vision he’d painted her with. “Really leaned into the photorealism.”

Past him, past his taunts, Camille looked between the two of them. Uncertain misery flashed across her features once more. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, before closing it.

Annabelle willed her painted self to move again too, to speak, to do anything. She willed Camille to question, to press, to not give up on them and on her. Not now.

“Camille!” Julian had caught sight of her too, and straightened. He gestured for one of the gallery employees to get Annabelle back into position. “I’m so glad you could make it! Is Annabelle not with you? She was so excited for the exhibition…”

“You haven’t seen her?” Camille’s voice broke. “I – I thought she’d be here, at least. With you.”

“With me?” Julian spoke mildly. Innocently. “No, no. I haven’t seen her. I thought she was with you. Is something wrong?” His tone gentled, as he walked towards Camille. “She mentioned you’d been having some problems…”

“No – it wasn’t like that – Camille—”

Crowds swarmed Annabelle’s painted self once more. She was lifted back on the wall, as if nothing had happened.

"Let me get you a drink," Julian said. "You can tell me everything."

She caught a glimpse of Julian's arm wrapped around Camille's waist. The way she leaned into him, looked up at him. His lips by her ear.

"Camille—"

By the time the room cleared, they were already gone.

#the last of these stories I swear #turning 30 #short story #horror #fiction #writing #creative writing #writeblr #getting rid of the archive just in case #idk what to tell you #art #magical realism

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 10 months

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Could I get hc for where the M6 find MC badly injured?. Not like on deaths door but like they'll need a strict week of bedrest to recover.

How they would react to finding MC?, how they would react knowing someone out there hurt MC on purpose? and how they would spend the week looking after MC?.

Mainly curious for Asra/Nadia and Muriel but all the m6 would be appreciated.

The Arcana HCs: When M6 find MC badly injured

~ @fox-daddy oh, I hope you're ready for some bittersweet angst while I run with this classic romantic moment :3 hope you enjoy these, friend! - brainrot ~

CW for brief descriptions of violence, physical pain/injury, and the M6 being very, very upset

-- to set the scene --

You had spent the afternoon in the forest gathering more stock for the shop, and lost track of time in the process. By the time you were ready to leave the sun was already setting and it was getting harder to see where you were going.

The first sign you had of an attacker was the feeling of being slammed harder than you thought possible on the back of the head. Everything that followed was fuzzy - being hit a few more times around your torso and face, a figure with its face hidden, and eventually being thrown against a wall while your bag was yanked away.

You don't know when you fell asleep, but when you open your eyes, you're back in your shop with your beloved bending over you.

Julian

His hands are steady on your bruises, but when you meet his eyes you can hear his breaths and see the curls around his face shaking

"MC?" He asks worriedly, "Can you tell me where it hurts?"

He doesn't leave the house while you're recovering. He's grateful for any help Mazelinka, Portia, Nadia, or Asra offers, but he insists on treating you himself and does so with total care and devotion

It's one of the moments when you're grateful for his cold hands, because they're so soothing on your tender skin

As you recover enough to be more aware of your surroundings, you start to realize just how the incident is affecting him

You can hear him pacing and muttering and swearing when he thinks you're asleep, trying to figure out how this happened and who did it and how to bring your attacker to justice

And at the same time, you know that no matter how many times he apologizes for not being there and you tell him that it's not his fault, he's going to blame himself

At one point Mazelinka gives you both bowls of soup laced with sleeping medicine

When he's able to forget your attacker, though, he's in his element

He's willing and able to give you everything you need: healing, company, laughter, love, and devotion, all without limits

Though he's very relieved when Nazali catches the assailant lurking outside your shop as they bring their apprentice more supplies and knocks them to the ground

Asra

The first thing you see is their hair twice as fluffed out as usual because they've been running their hands through it

As soon as he sees you're awake, he's gently skimming a thumb across your cheek and putting on a strained smile. "Oh, my love. Everything's going to be alright."

Salim and Julian, who have both studied medicine, are already in the shop helping Asra heal you while Aisha keeps you comfortable

As soon as you're recovered enough, Asra's offering you all kinds of safety options after layering the building in protective magic

Would you feel safer in the Palace? In the woods? In Nopal? Say the word and they'll take you anywhere you want to go

Is very gentle and cautious about how he asks you what happened

Stays so extremely calm and unruffled while you're healing that you know they're feeling some pretty awful things and that they have no intention of letting any of them show until you're better

Behind the scenes, he's stealing away whenever you're asleep to pass all the information he has about your attacker on to Nadia, who is determined to bring them to justice

They're not the type to try to restrict you in the name of safety, but they're teaching you every kind of defense magic they know

Nobody does comfort like Asra does. You won't have to go through a moment of pain or fear without him right there to pull you into his arms and hold you as long as you need him to to feel safe

Nadia

She's putting on a brave face but you can tell from the wrinkle between her eyebrows that she's very, very shaken

"Don't fret, my darling, you're safe now. Don't move. I've summoned our best physicians. Is there anything you desire? Anything I may fetch for you?"

As soon as you're cleared to move she's relocating you to the Palace where she can keep you safe and stay by your side

She is so dedicated to staying available to you, in fact, that she moves all of her meetings into the room next to yours so that she can hear you if you so much as cough

And if she does hear you in any kind of discomfort, she's dropping everything and rushing over

She'll move your head to her lap, bring food and water to your mouth, call for blankets and soup or ice cream and fans depending on your temperature, and trace your face with her fingertips until you fall asleep or force her to go back to work

You are her absolute priority

She's not going to tell you until later, but she is very, very angry

The cold kind of angry, that makes it difficult for her to be fair in her dealings. She has every connection both in and out of Vesuvia on a manhunt for your attacker

As soon as she hears that they've been apprehended, she has them detained until you're recovered enough to get out of bed

She wants justice, but she wants closure for you too, and the opportunity for you to obtain both for yourself

Muriel

As triggered and panicked as he is, Muriel has unfortunately gotten enough combat experience to have in-depth knowledge of how to care for someone who's been attacked

When you open your eyes, his expression is shifting between angry and terrified and deeply, deeply hurt, but his touch is gentle and safe and feather-light and he has water and painkillers already out

He doesn't want to overwhelm you with noise so he won't start talking until you do

He'll lock up the shop and carry you back to the hut as soon as possible, where he knows it's safe for you and for him

He's used to living with his own pain, but now he's becoming angry on your behalf and it's making him conflicted because he hates doing anything that could cause violence

So he sends Inanna with a note to Asra, explaining what happened briefly and asking them to pass the message on to Nadia so they can help

The two of them are quick to send everything you could need your way, and Muriel finds it much easier to accept help when it's for you instead of for him

Julian even makes the trek out once or twice to help you, and in the process tells everyone he meets about what happened and the state you're in

With the whole town on the hunt for whoever hurt their heroes, it's a matter of days before the attacker is caught. It's a miracle they make it to jail in one piece

Portia

The first thing you see are her tear-filled eyes, and the second thing you feel (after the aches across your body) are the steady drip of them falling onto your chest

"MC! Oh, I'm so glad you're awake. I'm so sorry - I'm so sorry!"

It's only a few more minutes before Julian and Mazelinka burst through the door, Julian carrying his doctor's kit and Mazelinka brandishing an honest-to-arcana pirate cutlass

Portia doesn't hide her determination to get justice for you as she carries you into Nadia's carriage to take you back to her cottage

She's holding your head and torso in her arms, helping you give Nadia a description of what happened while she presses her handkerchief to her eyes to keep her tears from dripping on you

She's the best nurse you could ask for

Whatever you can stomach, she'll cook it. If you're too hot, she's throwing open the windows and fanning you. If you're too cold, she's snuggling next to you and sharing her body heat

And if you're scared or hurting, she's cradling your face in her hands and crying all her tears for you. She develops a habit of kissing you right next to each injury every morning and night

When you're asleep, she's talking to every person she knows (which is a lot) and recruiting them to catch your attacker

By the time Nadia hears that they were found, it's almost too late to get them safely into custody

Lucio

His lips are white. All the blood has left his face, and his jaw is clenched so tightly to keep from chattering that you're worried it's going to crack

"MC? MC, are you awake? Does it hurt? What do you need?"

You notice that he's keeping his metal arm angled far, far away from you, where the metal can't bump any of your injuries, and his regular hand is fluttering all over your body like he's scared that he'll make it worse if he touches you

You quickly notice that there's several neighbors in the shop as well, and you learn that Lucio was so loud when he called for help that half the town already knows what's happened

He doesn't want to hurt you, so he guards you instead

He stays watchful at your bedside, sword resting by his hand, so that you know you're safe enough to fall asleep and heal

He'll only sleep if it's on the floor next to you, or in the same bed after you've told him multiple times that it won't hurt you

He'll happily tell you all kinds of tall tales to keep you distracted, and he practices all the patience he's developed with every friend and doctor that stops by to help instead of blowing up at them out of fear

All his anger has to go somewhere, though, so when an old connection from the heart district tells him that your attacker's been spotted, well

The only reason he doesn't kill them is because he thinks it would be too kind

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana angst #the arcana fluff #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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ofstoriesandstardust · 3 months

Text

like real people do (j.h.s.)

a/n: i watched set it up for the first time last night and got so inspired to write more for these two. please enjoy.

summary: A camping trip means secrets come a-tumbling out.

second star to the right (and straight on 'til morning)

warnings: swearing, allusions to sex

word count: 1.7k

“we could just kiss like real people do”

Jake huffs, letting his hands fall to his hips as he stares at his closet.

“I don’t own anything to go camping.” You peer over the top of your phone to your boyfriend whose frown is growing by the second.

“It’s one night Jake.”

“Who’s stupid idea was this anyways?” He grumbles, pulling a sweatshirt out of his closet before tossing it on the ground.

You don’t dare remind him camping had been Bradley’s idea, knowing it will only set him off further.

California offered relatively warm winters, but Bradley had found a campsite up north in Julian that was still open, offering the possibility of snow as an incentive to the group to go. Jake had been less than pleased by the idea but had caved to the enthusiasm of his friends, as long as you had promised to go with.

As the frustration grows in Jake's shoulders, you sigh.

“Jake, just come sit down for a second.”

He does, sliding across the bed. He positions himself to lay on top of you, in between your legs. His head meets your stomach as you reach down to curl your fingers in his hair.

With the season finally being over, he was letting it grow out a bit more than he normally did and you’d be lying to say you weren’t enjoying getting to curl your fingers in it at all moments.

“How is this gonna work Jake?” You mutter as his eyes flutter close. “You can barely keep your hands to yourself as it is.” He grunts, the vibrations settling against your stomach. “Are you gonna be able to manage while we’re out of town?”

He shrugs as his arms sneak under your body, wrapping around your stomach. “No.” He says petulantly. “Which is why I think we shouldn’t go. I can think of much better ways to spend our time than shivering our asses off in a sleeping bag on dirt for a night.”

He grins up at you through his eyelashes as you give him a displeased look. “We’re going.”

He groans, face falling into your stomach.

“You know, we could just tell them.”

After kissing Jake at Thanksgiving, he’d taken you out on date after date all the while asking you to keep it a secret from your friends. While he’d said at the time that it’s because they had all been so invested in the two of you getting together that they wouldn’t have let the two of you learn each other in private, you couldn’t help the pit in your stomach that it was because a guy like Jake didn’t want to be seen with a girl like you.

“No, because then they’re all gonna be up my ass.” His voice is muffled by the cotton of Jake’s t-shirt you’re wearing. “And I like having you all to myself.”

You sigh, beginning to push back his hair again. “We’re gonna have to tell them eventually.”

“Yeah, eventually. Right now, you’re all mine.”

Having to keep his hands to himself is killing him, you can tell.

Jake hadn’t gotten to sit next to you in the car, which had already started the trip off poorly. Javy had been riding shotgun with Natasha driving, Bradley in the middle of you and Jake.

It had been fine, until Mickey and Reuben had bickered too much and Bob had pulled their car over and made Mickey switch cars with Jake.

You’d gotten to the campsite later than anticipated, which had made things worse. In the way sleeping arrangements played out, he was with Reuben and Bradley (both notorious for snoring and snoring loudly), Mickey and Bob in a tent together, and Nat and Javy in another. You’d managed to end up by yourself as Bradley’s girlfriend hadn’t been able to make it at the last minute due to a work emergency.

And now, you’re sitting with Nat and Bob and Mickey, playing cards as the rest of the guys stand around the grill, chatting about the upcoming baseball season at school.

Except for Jake who’s sitting by the firepit, looking decidedly irritated.

Apparently, having to keep his hands to himself meant that Jake had decided he couldn’t talk to you at all, which was now irritating you.

As you sit down with your food, you sit next to Jake, tugging his shirt. You want to appreciate the way it brings out his eyes but you can’t as you drop your voice. All your friends were still by the picnic table, but Jake had apparently decided he wasn’t eating.

“You need to chill.” You whisper. “This is supposed to be fun.”

“Well, I’m not having any fun.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Jake crosses his arms as his nostrils flare. He turns away from you, kicking his feet up on the edge of the fireplace.

“Jake.” You say firmly. “You need to go get food and breathe. You’re being a downer. I understand you don’t want to be camping but try to be a good sport about it. It’s one night; you don’t need to drag your way through it by starving and isolating yourself.”

He lets out a lengthy breath, his shoulders relaxing as he does. “Don’t let Bradshaw take my spot.” He grumbles, standing up.

“Never.”

He’s gonna walk into the creek near their campsite and find a way to drown himself in it because he can not fucking take any more of this.

He glances at his watch, seeing that it's past 3.

The group had been up late, sharing stories and playing games but after you’d called it a night just past midnight, he’d lost interest. Unfortunately for him, Reuben had already crashed an hour prior and Bradley had called it when you did.

Meaning, he was trapped between two of the world’s most obnoxious snorers. He’s sure the two men can sleep through an earthquake and he’s not sure how they wake up to their alarms for early morning practice.

He’d hardly gotten to hang out with you tonight and not in the way he wanted. He wanted to be able to have you sit in his lap, a blanket on top for warmth as you slowly started to drift off on his chest. He wanted to be able to rub circles into your thighs and run his fingers through your hair. He wanted to kiss you and hold you and laugh with you.

He knew that he couldn’t because of his own stupid rule.

A particularly loud snore from Bradley sends him rocketing up from his sleeping bag, exhaustion and irritation driving him as he tugs the tent close before walking the ten paces or so to your tent. He doesn’t even think as he slides in, tugging at the zipper of your sleeping bag.

“Jake? What’re you doing?” You ask, more awake than he thinks you should be for the hour.

“Scoot.” He says and you accommodate him, moving over in the two-person sleeping bag you’d borrowed from Nick and Carole. “I can’t fucking sleep with those two.”

He feels his body instantaneously relax at your warmth, arms sliding around you to bring you into his chest. “Can’t say it’s much better in here.”

“Don’t care.” He says, tucking his head into your shoulder, finally feeling himself breath. “I just want to be with you.”

You wake up next morning to the sounds of your friends, the chittering of birds, and the sunlight streaming through your tent.

“-haven’t seen Jake.”

“Maybe he went to piss in the middle of the night and got lost and eaten by a bear.” You can hear Bradley say.

Horrors dawns on you as you realize they’re looking for Jake, who obviously isn’t in his own tent as he’s clinging to you, deep in sleep and tucked into your shoulder.

“Shit.” You whisper. “Shit shit shit. Fuck, Jake, wake up.” You push his shoulder but all he does is groan, tugging you closer to him. “No, no, fuck Jake, wake up. They’re looking for you. Fuck, our friends are gonna find out. Jake-”

A shadow appears in front of the opening of your tent as they bend down to unzip it. You feel like you can’t breathe as it reveals Javy, the boy already talking.

“Hey, sorry to wake you. We can’t find Jake and I’m starting to- oh.” You grimace as a grin grows on his face. He turns, shouting behind him. “Never mind, I found him!”

A full-belly laugh sounds as Bradley peaks over Javy’s shoulder. “Oh, you’re kidding. Oh my God, fucking finally!” He shouts, laughing as he talks. Jake finally stirs at that, letting one hand go of you as he reaches behind you for one of your shoes. Once he finds it, he chucks it behind him, wildly missing.

Nat snorts. “Nice aim, Seresin.”

“Fuck off!” He groans, finally turning to face the group crowded around. “You people-” He says, pointing between Reuben and Bradley, “-kept me up all goddamn night so the least you can do is let me enjoy the morning in peace with my girl.”

“His girl.” Bob repeats, an amused smile on his face.

“Yes, Bobby. My girl. We’ve been dating since Thanksgiving and we can talk about it later but please go away.”

Javy throws his hands up in mock defeat before tugging the zipper close.

Jake tucks himself back into you, hiding his face in your shoulder.

“You’re not usually so grumpy in the mornings.” You whisper.

Jake likes slow mornings. He likes getting to spend hours in bed with you, cuddling and taking you apart over and over again before pulling you from bed and making breakfast with you in the kitchen, a full spread. He likes the slowness, the quiet, a luxury he’s not usually afforded during the season. He’s sweet and sleepy and you think that you could love him most in those morning moments.

He doesn’t respond, already falling back asleep against you. You wish you could sleep too, but you’re too awake and have never slept well on the floor of a tent, the ground lumpy beneath you.

It does mean, however, that you get to hear Bob smugly announce to the group that they all owe him money.

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #second star to the right (and straight on 'til morning)

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verstappurr · 1 year

Text

𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ; 𝐦𝐯

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: max verstappen x fem!reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: max and prompt “i never wanted that divorce.” please

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and max are divorced and max is getting married again.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of divorce, sad reader, angst, not proof read

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hiiii! welcome to my blog! my requests are open so please submit your requests! we’re not using kelly because we’re not manifesting that <3 hope you all like this!

you were going through the mail when you saw a white envelope with “y/n verstappen” written in golden letters. you frowned in confusion but carefully started to open the envelope. you swore you heard your heart break when you were able to see what was inside. it was a wedding invitation, more specifically, an invitation to max’s wedding.

max and eleonor request the pleasure of

your company to celebrate their wedding

you felt your eyes water and closed the envelope. this could not be happening, you thought.

it’s not like you and max got divorced yesterday.

you and max got divorced because of racing. he wasn’t as present as you and the kids needed him to be, which lead to endless arguments, fights, and tears, until one day your marriage was terminated. but this was over three years ago, and despite that, you didn’t understand how he was capable of moving on so fast. maybe the reason why you didn’t understood how he did it was because you weren’t able to move on yourself.

you had tried everything, and by everything you mean everything. meeting new people, going on dates, god you even tried online dating, but nothing seemed to work. none of those men were him. some of them were good hardworking and loyal men, but something was always missing.

“mama, why are you crying?” a soft voice snapped you back into reality, “hey, i’m not crying, i just have an allergy” you chuckled and hugged leon, one of your seven year olds, “julian and i are ready. now julian is helping emma with her bag” he smiled as he hugged you back.

leon and julian are twins… more like max’s twins, no joke. same face, same eyes, and same cheeky smile. meanwhile emma is a carbon copy of you, but blonde with blue eyes, just like her father.

the twins were only four when you got divorced, and emma was 2. of course it wasn’t easy, but you both managed to make the divorce process as least traumatizing as possible.

“mama! we’re ready!” julian and emma ran out of their rooms with bags in hand, “hey, be careful!” you laughed, “we’re ready!” julian exclaimed and emma giggled, “that’s good, oma will be here in no time” you hugged your children, or like max likes to call them, your cubs.

the doorbell rang, meaning that sophie had arrived.

about a week ago, sophie had asked if you’d let her take the cubs on a little trip to a lake a she went to with one of her friends near the city. after looking at the pictures you couldn’t say no. your babies would love it and you knew how much they loved spending time with their grandma.

when you got pregnant, max suggested that it was better to move back to the netherlands so the babies could be surrounded by their family. you didn’t think twice and agreed with his proposal. you loved monaco, you really did, but there was nothing that could compare to having your family near you.

when you look back at those memories, you’re thankful you chose to come back, because you don’t know what you would’ve done if you had to go through the divorce all alone in monaco.

you walked over and opened the door, “hey!” you smiled, bringing sophie into a hug, “how are you doing, sweetheart?” she hugged you back and came in, you knew exactly what she was talking about, “i’m good” you smiled softly, she nodded giving you a sympathetic look.

“oma!” the three mini verstappens ran over to their grandma and hugged her legs, making her laugh, “who’s ready to go to the lake?” she asked, “me!”

you said your goodbyes and helped sophie get the kids in the car.

“i’ll let you know when we get there” she told you, “sounds good, and send pictures, please” you smiled, “i will. and honey, if you need anything, just give me a call” she pulled you into her arms and hugged you tightly, “i know, thank you, soph” “no problem”

—

being the momma bear you were, or the lioness like max would refer to you as, whenever your children were gone, you found yourself extremely bored… but also really productive.

you had been able to organize weeks of work and even clean the house. after you were done with your chores, you went up to your room and took a shower. after a while you walked downstairs into the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.

while cooking, you the doorbell rang. weird, you were not expecting anyone today besides sophie. you put the knife a side, quickly washed your hands and made your way to the door.

“uh, hey?” you said when you opened the door, “hey, how are you?” max asked, “i’m good. your mom already left with the children so…” “i’m here to talk to you, can i come in?” he asked, “sure…” nodding, you opened the door for him to come in.

“are you busy?” he asked after you closed the door, “not really. just cooking” you walked to the kitchen, max followed.

max sat in one of the stools and watched you chop your vegetables.

“what did you come to talk about?” you looked up, his blue orbs finding your (insert your eye color) eyes, “i wanted to know if you got the…” “the wedding invitation? i got it today in the mail” you nodded, your tone coming out a bit dry.

“are you mad?” he asked, “why would i be? congrats, by the way” you said, adding your favorite vinaigrette to your salad, “don’t be like that…” he sighed, “like what? am i not supposed to congratulate you now?” you looked at him.

“you know exactly what i mean, y/n” he said, “i don’t know what you mean and i’m not in the mood to fight. i’m tired and hungry, so can i please enjoy my salad?” you asked and he scoffed, “i can see it in your eyes, y/n. there’s something you’re not telling me and i want to know what’s going on” he sighed, “we’ve been divorced for almost three years, but remember we were married for four before that”

you felt your eyes water but quickly wiped the tears away.

“i’m okay, max” you said while grabbing a glass and pouring some juice in it, “you’re about to cry, tell me what’s going wrong, i want to help” he softly said, and that’s when you broke.

“i don’t know max, maybe the fact that once again i’m the one who’s going to be all alone?” your voice broke, “the fact i’m the only one who’s going to come back to an empty home when the kids are spending time with you? or maybe it’s the fact that for some reason i can’t move on with my life but everyone else can! you did, why can’t i?” you were a crying mess by now.

move on? he never moved on. his family knew it, his friends knew it, everyone knew it, he knew it.

he was never able to move on from you, the love of his life. the woman who was there to lift him up when he was feeling down, the woman who would cry almost every race because of how proud she was of him, the woman who showed him a new type of love when he became a father, and the woman he lost because he messed up.

seeing her a crying mess broke his heart, but it also gave him hope. hope that the woman he deeply loves, loved him back still, even if it was just a little bit of love left.

he liked eleanor. she was nice with the kids and very kind to you, but she wasn’t you and she’ll never be you. eleanor was younger than him and wanted to get married, so he agreed. he had nothing to lose, until that very moment in which you poured your soul out to him.

“i never wanted that divorce” he spoke as walked over to you, “and you think i did?” you sniffed, wiping your tears away, “you asked for it…” “because i got tired of giving you signals and second chances that were never taken, max” you sighed.

max felt like shit, to say the least. how could he be so dumb? how could he be so dumb to throw away his family and the love of his life just like that?

“please give me one last chance, i promise i’m not going to fail you and the cubs again”, he sat next to you on the couch, grabbing your hands and squeezing them softly, “max, you’re getting ma-“ “if you don’t want me to get married i won’t. all i need to hear you say it”, he interrupted you.

you were in shock, was he serious?

“i am serious. you know it” he said, almost as if he could read your mind, “please baby girl, i need to hear you say it”, he pleaded, staring into your eyes.

you took a deep breath.

“maxie… please don’t get married” you softly said, eyes watering and lips trembling.

max sighed in relief and hugged you tightly, “i’m never letting you go, ever again” he grabbed your face and kissed you softly.

“i hope you stick to that promise” “you know i will, schatje”

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 driver x you #f1 fanfic #f1 driver x reader #i cried writing this #probs i’m just dramatic

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secretsofblackthornhall · 2 years

Text

Emma To Bruce

Dear Bruce,

Sorry I haven’t written in you much lately. It’s been busy times around here.

Tuesday Julian and I were having breakfast — it’s been nice and sunny this last week, and the kitchen was pretty cheerful. I’ve become besotted with crumpets, and Julian is excellent at toasting them over the stove. We were having them with honey and butter when we heard a knock on the front door.

Julian jumped up. Now, about a day ago we got a message from Ty saying he was coming with Ragnor to Blackthorn Hall. He seemed really worried that Julian would be mad, but Julian wasn’t at all mad. He was nervous. He went around all day looking distracted and bumping into things, so when we went to bed at night I took his hand and wrote on his palm, the way we always used to do, tracing each letter. W-H-A-T A-R-E Y-O-U W-O-R-R-I-E-D A-B-O-U-T-?

We curled up together under the covers. He told me that he was worried because he used to be the person who took care of Ty, and now it had been more than a year and Ty had been taking care of himself. He said he used to know everything about Ty, when he got up and when he went to sleep, and what he liked to eat and do, and now he feels like he’s lost track of him somehow, like maybe it will feel like they’re strangers.

I told him he would never lose track of Ty and their relationship would always be special, it was just going to be different than it had been because Jules no longer has to take care of everyone and pretend he isn’t doing it. He doesn’t have to carry this big secret weight around, and responsibility is always a weight no matter how much you love the people you’re responsible for.

After that, he kissed me, and the rest, Bruce, is none of your business. Goodness, you like to pry.

Anyway, back to breakfast and the knock on the door. It was Ragnor, looking a sprightly shade of green, like an English meadow. He sailed right past Julian and began inspecting the drapes. Well, he was probably inspecting something magical, like the curse, but to me it looked like he was examining the curtains and the wallpaper. Maybe he’s thinking of decorating his own place. Or maybe he was just giving Julian some time alone with Ty, because Ty was still standing on the stairs, with a duffel bag over his arm, looking adorably awkward.

I wanted to run down and hug him but I hung back because I could feel in my bones that this was Ty and Jules’ moment. Jules was just standing in the doorway looking at Ty with his face all tight and then he said, “Come here,” in a rough sort of voice and Ty dropped his duffel bag and ran up the stairs and Julian hugged him so tightly I thought for sure he’d protest. But he didn’t. He just leaned into the hug. Jules rubbed his back and said, “Ty-Ty,” and I missed what happened next because I was keeping my eyes very wide open and trying not to blink. It’s the best way I know how to keep from crying.

Eventually they let go of each other, and we showed Ty and Ragnor around the first floor, which did feel a little weird, knowing that Ty had already been here two years ago with Livvy. I think we could all feel it, the sorrowful elephant in the room. Julian kept casting anxious glances at Ty, but Ty didn’t look sad, actually — more thoughtful. Eventually Julian told him he should go upstairs and pick out a bedroom. “Any room! There are lots to choose from. Whichever you want, you can decide how you want to decorate it. Anything you want to do.”

“And where will I be sleeping?” Ragnor said grumpily. “Stuffed up the chimney?”

Ty was already headed upstairs with Julian. I told Ragnor he could sleep wherever he wanted though I recommended the couch downstairs if he wanted to be Close to the Ghost. Rupert still tends to turn up most often in the dining room. Ragnor didn’t commit to this, but only wandered into the kitchen instead and started making tea. I offered him a crumpet to be hospitable and when Julian came back downstairs Ragnor was dripping honey on the counter.

“Can I see the ley-line map?” Jules asked. “Or are you too busy attracting ants?”

“No ants,” said Ragnor, around his crumpet. “Not the season.” He licked his fingers, stuck his hand into his jacket, and pulled out a huge rolled-up parchment which, first of all, he did not fit in the jacket without doing some magic, so let it never be said that Ragnor doesn’t like a dramatic gesture, even if he claims to be above that kind of thing. He unfurled it on the long dining table and weighted it down with a candlestick and some books along the edges.

It was a map of central London—it’s hard to miss the distinctive shape of the Thames snaking through the middle—but absolutely covered in lines in several different inks—red, blue, green, gold. And along the lines were astrological symbols and arrows and numbers and the occasional bit of Greek. You could barely read the street names.

“Your map of London is in Greek?” Julian said. “Also, aren’t you going to get honey on it.”

“Honey is good for parchment,” Ragnor said. “It’s a preservative. And it’s Coptic.”

“Your map of London is in Coptic?” I said.

Ragnor regarded it fondly. “It is. Believe it or not, it’s one of the most readable ley-line maps of the city I’ve found. Some of them are just impossible. This one is from the 1700s, they just wrote in Coptic to be difficult. Warlocks are like that.”

I know, I wanted to say, but I didn’t, because Ragnor was doing us a favor.

“Is your ghost afoot?” Ragnor said. He had withdrawn a large magnifying crystal and was peering through it at bits of the map.

“Not sure,” I said. “Rupert? We have a visitor who wants to meet you.”

Nothing happened.

“So he comes and goes,” Ragnor muttered, as though to himself. “Interesting.” He took a small leather notebook from his pocket and paged through it.

“Is it interesting?” Julian said. “Maybe he’s just shy around new people. Before we showed up he was alone here for fifty years or so.”

Ragnor looked up at Julian. “My boy, there are telephone calls I haven’t gotten around to returning that are that old.”

“Well, you should be a better correspondent,” Julian said, folding his arms. “Do you see anything on the map?”

Ragnor kind of hmphed and returned to the map. After a while he straightened up and said, “All right. Do you want to hear all the nitty-gritty details, or should I skip directly to conclusion?”

“Conclusion, please,” I said.

“I thought so,” Ragnor said. He sounded grumpy, for no reason I could imagine. That’s our Ragnor!

“Taking into account the different types of ley-lines and the various intersections, knots, and traces,” he said, “and assuming that the other objects are likely in central London, since all the others have been, and assuming that the objects are likely to be in locations relevant to the Shadow World…” He paused and cocked an eyebrow at us.

“With you so far,” Julian said.

“I see here and here as the most likely next search locations.” He had produced a pencil from somewhere, and he circled two spots on the map. “Here is the church of St. Mary Abchurch. And here…” He trailed off.

Julian leaned over the map where Ragnor was pointing. “Yes? It looks like just a street of townhouses in Soho.”

“Well,” said Ragnor, “once upon a time, for many years, there was an infamous Downworlder salon in one of these townhouses. The Hell Ruelle, it was called. It was a very clever name, you see, because a ruelle is a name for a kind of reception French aristocratic ladies used to hold in their bedrooms, a little like a salon, and also a ruelle is a narrow alley, such as the one this house is on.”

“Also,” I said seriously, “it rhymes.”

“Quite,” said Ragnor. “I’ve no idea what happened to it. Salons have been long out of fashion, but Downworlders do like their old-fashioned things. I’d wager it’s still a club of some kind, probably as scandalous as it was back in the day. Scandal never goes out of fashion, I’ve noticed.”

“We saw a playbill from there,” Julian told him. “It was displayed at the Herondale house on Curzon Street.”

Ragnor’s eyebrows went up. “You went to the Curzon Street house? What’s it like now?”

So Julian started telling Ragnor all about our visit there, which was fine because I wanted to go check on Ty. I had thought he might come downstairs to assist or at least observe Ragnor, but he’d apparently find someplace he liked and had remained there. Or some terrible dark magic had befallen him. But probably the first.

He was easy to find, at least—there are a lot of bedrooms but not that many, and besides, these old walls don’t do anything to block sound, and I could hear his voice in one of them. The “gray bedroom,” as Julian and I call it. It has a nice view of the duck pond.

I guess he was talking on the phone to someone; I could hear the pauses where he was listening to the other person. I thought I heard him say, “Well, I have no idea why, but it hasn’t been that long,” in reference to something, and then the door opened and he came out of the room. He immediately started at the sight of me standing in the hall. “Emma?”

“I just came up to see how you’re doing,” I said. “I think we’re going to get some takeaway in a bit. Is that the bedroom you like?”

“Yes,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the high windows. “It’s a good room, I think.”

“Were you talking to your sister?” I said.

He didn’t say anything — he sort of went red, then white. I wondered if he’d said something I wasn’t supposed to overhear, but I couldn’t imagine what. “I wasn’t listening,” I clarified. “I just assumed it was Dru.”

“Oh!” he said. “Yes. Yes, I was talking to Dru. She . . .”

“Probably wants to know what the bedrooms are like,” I said, trying to put him at ease. “Dru would definitely want the gothiest one.”

“Sure.” Ty and I started downstairs. “I’m not a good judge of what’s gothy, though.”

“I think the idea is ‘as creepy as possible,’” I said, and we reached the kitchen, where Jules and Ragnor were waiting. Ty relaxed pretty quickly; it turned out all he needed was (a) some tea and (b) to talk with Ragnor about the details of the ley-line map endlessly until food arrived and finally stopped them. Bruce, I swear at one point Ragnor told a joke in Coptic and Ty laughed. They’re hardcore over there at the Scholomance. Maybe too hardcore for me. But don’t get me wrong—it was very nice to have them here. It reminded me that when this project is complete and all the Blackthorns are here and can make it their own, this house could feel warm and friendly again. It didn’t even feel that cursed as we lay in front of the fireplace playing Clue (they call it Cluedo here) until Ty was falling asleep.

Update: Sunday night. Ragnor and Ty left this afternoon. It was really great to have them here, it was good for Julian and I to have other people here in the house to talk to other than the builders. Ty and Julian spent a bunch of time roaming around the gardens, deciding which old statues are ruined in a decorative, attractive manner, and which are just ruined. We’re going to have to get some new statues when we redo the garden, which Ty was very excited about; he thinks we should have one of Holmes holding a magnifying glass, and one of Watson.

The only weird thing is that Ghost!Rupert was missing for the whole visit, and then reappeared an hour after they left. We showed him the map and what Ragnor told us, and he just said he’s sure Ragnor is right. And it turns out he did talk to Ty at some point. He said Ty is “kind to ghosts.” Maybe Ty made him a ghost sandwich or read him a ghost bedtime story or something. Ty certainly didn’t say anything about it.

So, that’s all for now! I guess we’re going to head to St Mary Abchurch tomorrow afternoon, and then depending how that goes we’ll check out this townhouse and see if there’s still a scandalous Soho club there. Though what Ragnor would consider scandalous might not be that scandalous to us. I guess we’ll find out! For all we know it’s just some guy’s house and he’ll be very confused to see us!

Good night, Bruce. It’s nice to think of what it will be like when all the Blackthorns are here and the place is full of noise and activity. It’s the first time since we started I’ve really been able to envision it, even through the curse. Meanwhile, I’m going to tuck a Polaroid of us playing Cluedo here between these pages in case you want something to look at later.

— Emma

#sobh #secrets of blackthorn hall #ragnor fell #ty blackthorn #julian blackthorn #Ghost!Rupert

4K notes · View notes

millerscoffee · 8 months

Text

soft spot for trouble | part two | hbf!javi

my celluloid scenes are torn at the seams.

6.8k | javier peña x f!reader

part one | masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: husband's best friend, infidelity, hangover, confiding in ur bff, a lot of tears - like a lot, guilt, shame, nauseating truths, phone sex, mutual masturbation, lots of dirty talk, edging for a second, hints of subspace and papí!javi, pet names & degrading names (slut, bebita, cariño), javi would do anything to have reader and kind of says it tbh. no use of y/n.

summary: after waking up in javi– peña's house, guilt rushes you. after discovering another truth about your husband, you wonder if your marriage is salvageable.

A/N: just wanted to say thank you for all of your support and encouragement. i really appreciate the response part one received, and hope to continue loving these two as much as i do. enjoy! ♡

When you wake up, your mouth is a desert. Cigarettes, whiskey, and the faint taste of someone who wasn’t your husband coats your tongue. Head pounding, there are parts of your body you didn’t realise could even get dry. Your eyes aren’t open yet, as if you need the world to calibrate with you before you adjust to it, and when you do – you know where you are immediately.

Guilt hits you like a thousand stones to your chest.

“Fuck,” you sit up all to fast, it dizzies you, only adding to your heart palpitations. “Fuck,” you choke a sob. Fearful, panicked. What the fuck have you done?

Javi– Peña wasn’t in his bed. You weren’t sure where he was, and you didn’t want to find out. Not a single part of you could bring yourself to look at him. The two of you held a secret that shouldn’t have seen the light of day– or, the light of neon. You get flashbacks of the bar, of his hands on you. It’s all too much, rebelling up your throat as your eyes dart around in a dire need for the bathroom.

You make your way out of bed enough to hit your knees in front of the toilet bowl, the rest of your regret becoming a tangible entity residing with you in Javier's bathroom. Couldn’t get any worse. At least that’s what you think, until you come to the sinking realisation that Julian doesn’t know where you are. You place your forehead over your forearm and cry into the toilet: vomit, snot, and tears taking over your face. The prettiest sight. A hangover’s dream.

You give yourself time to be here. You knew if your husband would wait on you this long, he’d continue to be patient until you got yourself together. This truth makes your howling worse, shaking from how royally messed up your life has become within a matter of hours. It takes about five more minutes for you to regulate your nervous system enough to stand up, but everything equally feels like it’s spinning and that makes things difficult.

You groan on your way upright, letting out a heavy sigh before rising to your feet and flushing. You wash your mouth out, wash your face, try to cleanse yourself from the night before. You redirect any thought that may suggest otherwise. It wasn’t meant to happen, and Javier would know that soon.

It doesn’t take you too much longer to feel suitable in exiting the bathroom when you realise just how naked you are – completely, even. And he was right, you had a limp you couldn’t ignore. That truth, you couldn’t help but bite a grin back at. He was everywhere if you focused: you could still feel him inside you, your hips sore all the way to the apex of your thighs and down. He was everywhere. God, you were fucked up for finding it sexy.

A shirt you never really saw him in was on the bed… did he leave that for you? You slip the larger t-shirt over your frame and ignore the way it smelled innately like Javi. Peña, you remind yourself.

After the worn fabric touches your skin, you’re brave enough to tiptoe out into his living room. Your eyes scan the kitchen where he ate you out. Where he made you squirt. It all looks cleaned now, as if nothing happened. A part of you hopes it’s true, and it fights with the other side of you begging for a round two. All of the quiet giving signs of one truth: Javier is not at home. No note, no instructions if you should lock up. Just gone.

Maybe it was better that way. Loneliness didn’t creep around you in the way it would if Julian did this to you. It didn’t cause any disruption in your day, or alter it dramatically. If anything, you felt relieved you didn’t have to talk to him. To excavate an already awkward and dead situation. You took what you wanted, that was all.

You decide to utilise his shower, going back to the hellscape that was where you threw up and undressed again. You turn the dials to a steamy, hot shower – he wouldn’t mind right? You’d send him a bill. When it’s time, the water feels like a blessing as your sinuses open. Your head, less bogged down, yet a cloud of shame resides in the shower with you. You were careful not to use his products, not to smell like him if you could help it and definitely remove the scent of cigarettes from your skin… if it were possible. Regardless, you stay in the shower a little longer before it’s time to remove yourself.

Being in Peña’s space when he wasn’t here was nice. Although, it looks new… because it was. Furniture littering the living room when you’re dried and dressed. He was back from Colombia, and that’s really as much as he was willing to share. He didn’t know for how long, and it was tinged with rushed embarrassment about the issue.

But, most of his work was like that, from what you could tell. A lot of secrecy, inability to talk about his work out in the open.

He knew how to keep a secret.

No, don’t go there.

The skirt’s zipper is popped open from last night and when you try to pull it up, you resign to tie your jacket around the fabric. It’s not long before you’re out.

That was that.

But you can’t go home. You lean back against Peña’s front door when the palpitations come back in full force, as if the fresh air held truths about what you did than you could even comprehend. Fucked, you’re fucked.

Your hair is wet, you’re kind of cold even though the Texan heat surrounds you. You feel lost and scared and disgusting. And as if your mind maps your route for you, you walk to Gabbie’s instead of your own house. Knuckles graze over the door, you don’t even really know what time it is, but there’s a possibility she’s at work unle– “...Are you okay?” Gabbie looks concerned when she opens the door to find you on the other side: hungover, mascara still seemingly down your face even after the shower, your clothes reeking. She sees you for who you are, unable to stop the floodgates from lifting. Your face screws up in a weep you can’t stop, and she ushers you inside – looking behind her before closing the door.

“I… I…,” you hiccup, burying your face in your best friend’s shoulder, you feel it when she lets you give in to her. A worry comes over you, would she still support you like this after she finds out the truth? After she finds out who you really are? Repulsion grips your throat again, unable to form it. But Gabbie is tolerant, you always appreciated it about her. You needed the space to think, and she was always good at giving that to you. Something Julian was more impatient about, but it wasn’t the time to point out his shortcomings. God, your head hurt.

“C’mon, let’s get you some tea,” she whispers, curling her nose at the scent of smoke on the fabric, “and some new clothes.” You sniffle and nod, following her into the kitchen while she goes to grab some comfortable clothes for you to replace.

“What happened, honey?”

With your arms curled at the kitchen counter, you rest your head in them, “I fucked everything up.” It feels like you did, feels like you couldn’t undo this if you tried – if you even wanted to. Your voice sounds meek, whiny, you can’t believe it’s you who’s saying the words. You could and wanted to be better than you were.

“What do you mean?” Gabbie pulls a couple of cups from the cupboard before turning on the kettle, your mind not registering the irony of having hot tea for where you are in the world, but her air conditioning made the experience understandable. Really, any thought to take you out of your narrative aided in not completely fainting from the inertia of reality that stuck to the pit of your stomach.

“Julian and I,” you start. An attempt. A purchase. Something to make it less bad than how you felt, anything to take the sting away. “We-we had this big fight last night, and I-I went down to the bar and I ran into someone and…,” tears soak your face again, you choke on the sobs before you can get anything else out. You couldn’t utter it, the guilt weaves a vice grip around your voice. You couldn’t tell her it was Peña, and you couldn’t tell her you fucked anyone else but your husband. Those two truths pinned your eyes down, disabling you to look up from the granite tops.

You weren’t looking for sympathy, and Gabbie knew that. But fuck, when you look up, pity is coating her face. She mutters your name when she walks around the side and grips you in a hug. “You love him, honey. You made a mistake. What matters now is making it right.”

You’re not sure what hurt worse, the prospect of making it right or the fact that when Gabbie calls what you had with Peña a mistake, it twists a knife inside you – one you weren’t sure you could take out now.

You pull away when the kettle begins to sing and you’re able to snort a laugh at her curled nose. The scent of cigarettes, equally from Javi– Peña and the bar, circulates you. “Seriously. You need a shower.” “And those clothes, could I borrow some?”

After finishing your cup – and having a long talk, you utilise your friends shower and slip on a fresh pair of clothes – and you’re grateful for the guest bathroom stocked with unused toothbrushes. You look more presentable, and feel a little better. Albeit, feeling more indebted than before you came through the threshold of her place. “Listen, I can’t and won’t tell you to hold this secret for me. It’s too much to bear, you shouldn’t be responsible for holding this.” Your hand brushes over your face, but she’s quick to interject.

“You’re my friend. My best friend. You don’t owe me anything. I’m not going to leave you or rat you out. I don’t judge you. Just make this right, okay? I hate to see you like this.”

She’s a good friend. Makes you wonder if Julian is a friend like this to Peña. Fuck, it never ends.

You don’t know what you did to deserve Gabbie, but you hug her anyway. Your clothes in your bag, you’re on your way. You thank her, you kiss her cheek, and you look intently into her eyes before leaving.

You had to make this right.

Julian, I had an affair, you think. That’s how you’ll tell him. No. Listen, Julian – last night I got drunk. God, no. It was all wrong.

You had to tell him, but one thing was for certain: you weren’t going to say who. You just couldn’t bring yourself to split up their friendship, no matter how mutually involved Javier was. And you couldn’t bear the thought of Julian’s borderline smug expression at how correct he was in assuming the worst of you.

How he did one thing wrong and you made a dumpster fire of it.

The pounding in your head was more from tension and stress by the time you made it to your front door.

And nervous couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. Nauseous, heart pounding, sweat prickles your skin.

When you unlock the door, a new sense of silence fills the air of your home. It’s eerie, being here after doing what you did. Like your past self is slapping you in the face as soon as you close the door behind you. ‘How could you ruin this home? How could you throw away every second of time and love you poured into this relationship?’. You close your eyes, dizzy as you press the back of your head against the frame of your house – finding support, finding breath. But not finding your husband.

“Julian?” you call out, toeing your shoes off before putting your purse away; keys in the pot. Nothing. No where.

You make your way to the kitchen when you find a note.

Out with Peña. Be back soon. I miss you. – J

Fuck. Holy fucking shit. What? What?! Your mouth slacks open in shock. Followed by fear, followed by rage. Did Javier invite him out? While you were fucking asleep? You felt as though you were going to faint when you heard the phone ring. Throat dry, you cling to the edge of the tabletop before taking the phone off the hook – you shakily press the receiver to your ear. “H-hello?”

“Wow, you sound guilty,” your breath hitches and hotness washes over your skin.

“Peña, I–”

“Who’s Peña, huh? Not necessarily what you were saying last n–”

“Stop. Just stop. Where’s Julian? He left a note, said he was with you. Did you? God, I can’t even say it.”

You can hear the drag of a cigarette on the other line and it forms flashbacks you did your best to deny you enjoyed. You were so logical, so level-headed before his voice filtered through the microphone – the moment you hear the slip of nectarous syllables, you want to fold. You hated this. Pressing your forehead to the adjacent wall, the phone hangs loosely in your fist when you listen.

“I didn’t tell him anything, querida,” tears form in your eyes from your lack of control; the pet name panging you. It shouldn’t have, but goddammit. Goddammit. Your hand braces against the pillar-lengthed frame, “he’s at work now. He came by looking for you. I told him you were with me last night–”

“What the fuck, Javier.”

“People saw you leave with me last night,” your name fits in his mouth better than it should and you swallow hard, knowing he’s right. “He would have found out.”

“This has to stop, we have to stop,” you can hear it – the strain on your throat, the knife inside, that ever present hum of your doom. Your clammy palm touches your jaw as you will yourself to stand up straighter. Instantly queasy, bad idea. You sink down the wall, sitting down as the cord of the phone follows you.

“I know,” Javier whispers now, a bit pained.

“Did it hurt seeing him?” Your own voice bruised.

“Not as much as I anticipated. That hurt more, probably.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Your knees curled up to your chest, hands curled until your chin.

“I know that we have to stop,” Javi– fuck, Peña, starts, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, “we have to.” and it’s there. It’s right there in how you say it. How your words draw out rather than cut sharp. More beseeching than a strong boundary. An obvious sign of how you bend for him like kinetic energy’s effect on tree limbs from wind. It is all in motion, too close to stop. Your barrier is already washing away, and you cling closely to its threads. You must keep your wits about you. “We have to,” you repeat, your voice soaked in tears this time.

On the other line, Javier squeezes his eyes shut. The cigarette burns between his fingers as he presses his index and thumb where the bridge of his nose meets. And the thing with Javi, is that he doesn’t beg, but you’ve got him so wrapped up – so enthralled in what could be, maybe the chase, that he can’t see anything else. “What will it take?”

That is when you hear the doorknob turn. “I have to go,” you hush, rising to your feet and wiping your face, “can I call you later?” but he’s already hung up, so you do the same. It knocks the air out of you, but you don’t have time to dwell.

Julian turns the corner to where you are: almost hidden between the kitchen and laundry room. And if you were crying more, you’re doubled in tears now.

“Julian,” you cry, rushing to him. Your arms wrap around him and although he wraps back around you, you’re left with a sinking feeling: guilt, shame, a veracity that this touch you were feeling wasn’t half as electric as the one you felt last night. “Julian, I’m so sorry.” you snivel in his shoulder, feeling his arms wrap around you tighter. The nose against your temple doesn’t feel as strong as Javier’s, and it all stings. It feels a new sense of wrong when you pull away, and he’s thumbing under your eyes.

“No, I’m sorry,” his voice is soft, beckoning you to be close, and you want to – you really want to.

But you don’t know if you can.

That rush of why this shatter exists in the first place comes in waves as it crashes into your skin – leaving a film of betrayal over every cell. Because it wasn’t just his lying that led you to the bar last night, it was the repetitious behaviour. Julian’s demanding a different treatment than what he gave. Your arms slip from him and hang by your sides, giving yourself some space.

“I guess you know where I was last night,” you bite the corner of your lip, leaning against the wall for some stability, arms crossed.

“Yeah, I went to see Peña. Was worried sick about you, you know. You couldn’t have called?” you suppose you deserved that. You nod swiftly, “I should have, I’m really sorry. I just, I needed to clear my head.”

“Well, since you stayed at his place, I hope you realise how silly this all is. How miniscule it all is. Just because I slept with Veronica–”

“Excuse me?” your eyes widen, “Veronica… Veronica… The same Veronica who you told me not to worry about?” you remember the party – a holiday party with Julian’s coworkers, one of which, Veronica. Red lipstick is easy to trace: cups, forks, your husband’s cheek.

He promised it was nothing, promised it was only a friendly kiss under the mistletoe and now, a year later, you’re in your kitchen being told that only was it something, it was something that went on for years. “How fucking long have you known her, Julian?”

When your eyes cut to him, he looks frozen. Like he didn’t mean for it to come out, and now he has unraveled such a can of worms he doesn’t know where to begin, but you sure do. He doesn’t deserve to waste another second of your time today. You felt so guilty, so wrong for every second of your day only to be lied to for who knows how long. Your mind reels at the possibilities. The double-dealing.

“I-I can’t have you in this house. I need you out. I need you out, get out. Pack a fucking bag, I need space.”

You had no room to talk, you knew that, but after a whole day of worrying yourself to the bone, and this was how it really was? The details he neglected to inform you for how long? You brush past him before he can respond, and it hurts more that he doesn’t put up a fight. Packs a bag, tells you he’s going to stay with Javier, and leaves within fifteen minutes. Your knees buckle the second the door closes behind him, heavy wails rattling your ribcage.

---

You’re not sure your face has ever been so puffy. You pour a glass of water, and you just barely remember to eat, but you do. You don’t open the blinds, though. At least you’re trying. Keeping the house dark, it’s surprising when you don’t reach for alcohol or something to numb this, but a part of you wonders if he’ll call.

And you don’t mean Julian.

The sun sets, leaving inky blue in the sky when you get ready for bed. It’s been such a long day that you couldn’t imagine staying up for a second longer. After a long bath, you change into your silk pyjamas. You’re not sure you’ve taken so many showers or baths in one day, either. That makes the stranger of an amused grin grace your features. You were washing away every memory you could from today.

Getting under the blankets, you look over to Julian’s side of the bed. How empty it was, how you missed him. You couldn’t help it. The two of you built a life together, but one that you were coming to understand was built on more lies than one and god, you just couldn’t cry about it any more tonight.

But it was lonely like this.

You wondered what the two of them were doing. If Peña– fuck it– Javi was listening to him, if Julian was lying to him. Thoughts flooded you so much the sound of the phone on your nightstand is background noise until you realise it. A gasp flutters your lungs, turning your head to it. Shit.

Picking up the phone, you place it to your ear, but you don’t say anything immediately. A nauseating twelve seconds.

“Cariño?” your breath hitches when you hear him. Sinking further down in the bed, your legs brush against the sheets and your eyes slip shut. It’s a relief where earlier in the day it was a curse.

“Javi–,” you start, tears pricking your eyes, and he’s already catching you.

“I know, baby, I know.”

And you want so bitterly to scream I’m not your baby, you don’t want anyone near you in this way after the day you had – after the deception that coated your marriage from both you and your husband lies in wait for you both to get back to. But you don’t tell him that, you don’t contest.

Instead you sniff softly and wipe your eyes. You focus on your inhales, you settle yourself down.

You are there for yourself more than anyone else could ever be.

“Is he there?” a part of you worries Javi won’t like what you asked, that he will feel slighted, but you’re relieved when he answers you without a passing judgment.

“He is, I think he’s asleep now. I’m not sure what you told him, but he was a mess. He, uh, called you crazy, though…,”

“He what?” your jaw tightens, clenching the sheets with your free hand, “He’s the fucking crazy one–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Javi’s voice hushes you in his smooth, but matter-of-fact way, and you close your mouth. “I know. I was there, remember? We all went to college together.”

“Who was the other woman? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I’m not sure, I think she was from out of town. And I didn’t know that you didn’t know, remember? What happened?” So you explain. Tell Javi all about the way Julian assured you not to worry about her at the company party, or any time thereafter. Peña curses under his breath, “What a fucking idiot, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” your jaw ticks, tempting to pull your tears back in. No more tonight.

“Seriously. You don’t deserve this. You deserve… someone who’s honest with you. For better or for worse.”

For better, for worse. You weren’t sure if Javi did that intentionally, but the vow makes you feel sick now on what was a beautiful wedding day. It’s simultaneous, the remembering of it. But you shove it down, deep. You want to forget.

So you sigh. Occiput at the headboard, and you close your eyes – just wanting some peace. A distraction, maybe? It was just so present, and it burned as strong as your desire for Javier that couldn’t be contained for a second longer. Especially not now with yet another thing on your plate pulled you away from who you thought was the love of your life.

“Where are you?” you ask, and you think it’s unassuming enough, but the slight exhale of laughter from the other end calls you out, “I’m in bed. I assume you’re the same?”

“Shocked you wouldn’t be out all night.”

“You know, I wanted to go to this girl’s place tonight, but she’s kinda going through a lot right now. Seemed a little too much,” he’s hushed now and the transition of his voice stirs your middle. It shouldn’t, but it does.

Worse, it makes you smile.

“She sounds like a bore,” you swipe a thumb over your grin, but there was some truth to that. Despite the adventurous couple days, you didn’t necessarily feel like you were an exciting person. You had a 9-5 (lucky to be off today), you had a husband. You did your activities, and you came home. This was the most excitement you’ve experienced in, well, maybe since you met Julian. There were areas you were passionate about that either got abandoned due to it not meshing with his schedule, or him not approving of it.

Was he ever good for you?

“She sounds like she needs to relax.”

“What are you suggesting?” you respond. The tension cuts like a knife even through the phone, and you can hear his own smile form. If you close your eyes, you can see it.

“It’s cute when you play dumb.”

“What? Phone sex?” you question as if your words are twisting a lock of your hair, ripe for the picking.

“Is that what this is?” Javi questions, giving you the same fake-innocence that’s being thrown at him.

“Is that what you want?”

There’s a pause, contemplative and feverish. The sound of fabric plays in the background until ultimately stillness.

“You would get off while your husband is in my apartment across the hall?” Javi’s quiet, but his words cause your legs to spread, a bitten noise in the back of your throat greets you on this hellish day on earth. “Mierda. You’re so dirty, you know that? Willing to do anything for me.”

“I’m not sure I should do anything you tell me,” you start with a flash of amusement, you’re unable to think about anything but the slick gathering between your legs, “but I want to.”

“You need it, bebita? You need me to take care of you? Because I can, but only if you tell me.”

You bite your bottom lip, slipping your head over your pillow as you get comfortable in the dark.

“Take care of me, Javi. Make me feel good.”

And it was working already, your other hand skates over your abdomen as a shiver sends through you.

“Do you think it’s that easy?” a growl behind his voice, you gasp quietly at the sound. “Beg me.”

“God, after today? Seriously, Javi?”

“Beg.”

And there’s something about the way he barks an order that makes your hole clench around nothing. Like last night when he pulled back because you weren’t giving him what he wanted right away. Makes you want to do as he says, and you can’t explain why.

“Javi,” clouded in arousal, your legs squeeze together to feel friction – 180° turn around from your protests, “I need you, I want to cum for you. Want to know how good you make me feel. Please, Javi.”

You hear Javi’s jeans unzip. Jeans in bed, the mad man.

“We’re going slow, bebita. Understand? Go ahead, slip your hand down. You'll do as I say, sí?”

Instinctively, your free hand slips down, gasping at the pool of wetness there. More than what you thought, something comes over you. The heat of pleasure washes over any other thought.

“Yes – yes, Javier. I’ll do as you say. Tell me what to do, Javi – fuck – please! Tell me how to get myself off,” your tongue darts out of your lips, brain swimming as the swell of your sex pulses in crashing undulations demanding to be touched.

And Javi fucking loves that. The desperation in your voice, wrecked with desire, and you’re so sober compared to last night. All of this is true. Your eagerness drives him to his own cliff, abandoning any remorse he has for his friend. The focus shifts on you and Javi alone.

“Take your index finger and ring finger. Are you paying attention?” you hum, focusing on those two fingers. “Yes or no, hermosa? Use your words.”

And you waste no time in humming again, spreading your wetness across your folds from the shift of your thighs. “Yes, I’m paying attention,” orbs already glossy, the lost sound of you is initiative for Javi.

“Spread your lips apart with them and lightly — I mean it, cariño,” he warns briefly, “lightly press your middle finger against your clit.”

So you do as you’re told. Your fingers are natural as they spread your lips, and you let out a heady sigh when your middle finger grazes over your clit. “S’sensitive,” you slur, biting a sob as your head rocks to the side against the plushness of pillow. “Javi…,”

“You feel that, babygirl? That's good. Keep my cunt pried open. Roll your middle finger against your clit, harder this time. That clit your husband neglects, but I found day one. Bounce the pad of your finger against it, up and down just like that. Good girl. I bet you look like a dream, princesa. Wish I could taste you…,” he trails off and you can hear the faint sound of his skin. You imagine him hard while he talks to you, the cherry of his head beading with precum as he smears it down the shaft. It sends you to whine, bouncing the pad of your middle finger – up and down, just like he instructs. You’re being so good for him, and you know it. Following what he says, word for word. Your folds feel so soft like this, you wonder if he’s telling you to touch yourself this way to absorb just how good you feel.

“Jav– I,” you swallow, the sparkle of pleasure hitting you with each pass, you need more. Need a depth to take you under more than the shallowness of this teasing. “Please,” you whisper, and you’re not sure you could elaborate. You’re so gone. It doesn’t land on you, the trust you’re placing in him and how willing he is to hold it. But it is there without putting words to it. And Javi? He is fully aware of the space you’re taking yourself to. Just for him.

“Yeah? Is that not enough? But you’re such a depraved slut I bet you could get off just by doing that, I know you could. I'll be kind, you’re welcome,” god he’s so cocky, and it’s still so sexy – how can he manage it? “Press your clit between your index and middle finger. Are you doing it?”

“Mmn’doing it,” you manage, eyes slipping shut – even in the dark, you can only focus on the way his words spill – viscous and sweet – into the telephone. “Oh, you like being called that, yeah? Are you my slut?” “Javi, Javi,” you whimper, pressure at your clit between your fingers you know you’re soaked now, “M’your slut! Fuck!” you’re panting, sweat forming at the nape of your neck.

“Good girl, princesa. Squeeze your clit – un poco, just a little. Can you do that for papí?” and fuck, you haven’t heard him say that, either. Two firsts in one phone call. Your body is in overdrive, you can feel wetness slip from your hole over the crease of your ass, against your thighs, “Flick your clit between those two fingers. Back and forth. Do it now. God, listen to you. Dirty girl wants to cum with her husband snoring in the other room. Bet that’s the first time you’ve cum in your bed in a long time.”

And you’re pathetic, whimpering like crazy as you flick your fingers back and forth around your clit. You can feel the swell, how hard the nub of nerves feels – shocks of electricity run through you, you’re so close like this. The fast motions taking you until–

“Hands off — now.” you gasp, panting against the ledge, not so silently begging for your release.

“I want to hear her. Middle finger. Don’t go all the way in.”

So you do as you’re told, your throat dry and rough. You lean the receiver to your sopping cunt so he can hear the tapping of your hole that’s so soaked it almost hurts. When you bring your phone back to your ear, you tighten it between your ear and shoulder and Javi is busy singing praises to her before he realises you’re back. He sounds different. Possessive. Just like you wanted him to be last night.

“That fucking cunt. That’s mine. That's for me. Julian called you crazy, but he ate dinner exactly where I made you cream on my fucking kitchen counter last night. He won’t say shit about you and get away with it.” He sounds hushed, but rough like this. Like you can hear him snarl those words at the base of your ear while he takes you from behind. Your heart picks up at the imagery he’s given you. The symbolism of his protection of you, and you let the flames take you.

There is no going back.

“Touch yourself. Two fingers in your cunt, roll that gorgeous clit. Perfect, messy pussy,” and you can hear it now— the slapping of his skin more intentional than before.

Your two fingers tease your hole, groaning without holding back from the touch and how wet you feel. And he was right, you were so… messy. It spreads over your outer labia, your thighs, up to your clit. All from the sound of his voice, all from his claim over you – how protected you felt. Desired. You bite your lip as you work your fingers inside, rolling your sensitive clit in lazy strokes – doing your best to keep the phone close. Moans drip easily from your wanton mouth.

“Tell me what you’re doing,” you mewl, head spinning from the way his hand is around your throat without even being there to touch you.

“Fuck. Got my fist around my cock, right at the base before bringing it up. Stroking at my head. You have it twitching, bebita. You make me so fucking hard. You’d love it. That slutty mouth would lap up every bit of precum – mierda, fuck.”

Even his muttering sounds sinful, leaving your bottom lip tucked into your mouth, sucking hard at the skin. Your hole tightens around your fingers and you work yourself to peaks, massaging your clit in deep circles that work in tandem with the repetitious tapping against that spot inside you.

“Faster,” you finally purr, unsure if you’ll find it together – but god, do you want it so bad. You’re not even sure if it’s a plea or a demand to him, but you leave it.

And he’s secure enough to let you boss him, if only for a moment.

“Fuck. You too. Now. Are you a good girl?”

“Hmmpnh,” you uselessly whimper, nodding to no one. “I’m a good girl, I’m a good girl–” whining praises over and over, Javi’s grunts got more deliberate, more in time with your puling sounds. You’re shaking, needing to be sent to your climax, you beg to him in the broken words between exhalations.

“That’s it, bebita – be a good little slut. Give it up to me – mierda, got my cock throbbing for it. Wish I was cumming in your perfect little cunt – fuck. Let go, let me fucking hear it,” there’s a pause as he huffs into your ear, his attempt to find composure, as he grits through his teeth.

“Make my fucking pussy come, now.”

That demand, that ownership is what sends you. Your body responding to it instantly, you moan – hips lifting off of the bed as you nod. Nipples standing to attention as your body rolls through waves of pleasure, cunt fluttering around your fingers so tight and rhythmically the phone drops for a moment and you can hear a loud grunt on the other line – one that was dangerously foolish, your name falling from his mouth when you both knew just who was in his house. You didn’t even care. Not one part of you was cautious in this moment as you both fell into the throes of this affair.

Your body convulses before its inevitable release. Your muscles, tense, now relax into a puddle. You sigh, pulling away from your core and skillfully avoid getting the phone sticky as you put it back to your ear.

As you’re both just a pair of lungs battling breath between the phone connection, you shift in bed, rolling onto your side, the receiver slipping to your other ear. Savouring the seconds, the feelings of connection. You realise you lack this with Julian now. You didn’t notice it before. All a feeling, and not intellectualised, but it’s palpable, like a looming presence at the bottom of this ocean.

Your thoughts come and go as a yawn finally leaves Javi, and it’s kind of sweet to hear him be soft. To hear his humanity.

“When will I see you again?” you break the silence timidly, and honestly, despite the quite literal affair happening, you’re surprised the question slips by your lips.

Who was this person Javi brought out in you?

You can recall the times the two of you shared glances in silence before this. Not so many words were shared, and back then you thought it was due to lack of interest in each other’s lives, but now… now you’re realising it’s because of the volcano bubbling underneath the surface. The potential you both share.

It was fucked, you’re fucked, and you’re scared.

But you still poke the bear because if you didn’t you knew you would spend the rest of your life curious about the cave it resides in.

Hibernation had to come to an end eventually.

“It can’t be soon,” this upsets him, you can tell, but he is nothing if not observant. How odd this would look if the two of you started to hang out. “A week or two, cariño. We can make phone calls often. But we have to wait. Can you wait?”

And you want to tell him you’d wait ages for him, but you don’t. You force the words back down your throat, and instead offer him a nod even though he cannot see it.

“I can wait, Javi. I can wait for you.”

“That’s my good girl,” his words make your heart swell with pride, “I’ll call you.” he promises and you want to believe him so you do.

“I’ll call you, too,” fast to say it back. And you don’t feel an ounce of desperation. You feel renewed. Empowered by this. Confident.

“You should get some sleep, cariño. Got a husband to fight with tomorrow. He is not staying here.”

You both laugh as it simmers into comfortable silence.

“Okay…,” you’re reluctant, but you do agree to hang up.

“Goodnight, Javi.”

“Goodnight, ángel.”

You cling to the phone, and he hangs up first. You’re left with yourself just as you were when you woke up this morning. Surprised that you feel less guilty than you did earlier in the day, how swiftly your perception has changed of Julian, of your stance with Javier. All of it. You knew that you couldn’t just leave your husband at the drop of a hat, not after this much time had been put into the relationship. But you knew nothing or no one could light you on fire the way Javier Peña did.

Finally latching the phone to the hook, you close your eyes. The stickiness of your cunt peels your lips apart when you shift, and it’s a reminder of him. Your skin grows hot, your fingers exploring yourself again – if only to touch, if only to bring him back to life just as he was speaking into your ear moments ago. “Javi,” you whisper to yourself, nipples still erect from arousal.

And so you go again, with yourself, to make yourself feel good. Not for Julian, and not for Javier.

For you.

Until your core is shaking, your spent body spreading over the bed when sleep finally takes you.

When was the last time you did that? When was the last time you spent time on yourself rather than making sure your husband’s pleasure was prioritised? You weren’t sure, but you didn’t have time to dwell. Not with your eyelids getting heavy, drowned in your self-gratification. This was the start of something new. A new version of yourself actualised.

If anything, you were grateful for Javi’s presence. Whether he was doing this selfishly or not, this shook you to the core. He was waking you up.

And you had so much more to learn about yourself.

taglist: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin - comment to be added! if i missed you, please remind me!

#narcos fic #javier peña #javier peña smut #narcos #javier peña x f!reader #pedro pascal #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x afab!reader #narcos smut #hbf #hbf!javi #husband's best friend #by bee

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dusty-cobweb · 11 days

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Julian realizes that Garak is still hurting weeks after the incident with the wire. He intends to help.

tw // mention of suicide, animal death (not explicit)

Garak lied. He knew how to mold his face, suppress the suspicious lilt of his voice and stim of his hands. Yes, Garak was a very good liar.

However, today, merely a few weeks after the wire incident, his facade trembled. It wasn’t obvious, not at first. But Julian knew Garak, or at least knew how he acted.

He would smile coyly, maybe move the replicated flowers from the center of the table, press his hands together politely while Julian got his meal. Afterwards, they would exchange barbed words, meant not to hurt but to puncture holes in the other’s argument. It was fun, for the most part. One they equally enjoyed.

Now, Garak still smiled, but his lips pressed flatter than usual, painting a thin line against dull scales.

“Doctor? I do hope I’m not boring you?” Garak’s voice fluttered in, almost amused at his lack of attention.

“No! No, not at all Garak. It’s just…” Julian tried to find the words, tried to place what was so wrong with the picture in front of him.

“Just..?” Garak questioned.

“Your scales— they’re not shiny like they usually are.” Julian ended up saying, cursing himself as he did. Garak seemed just as surprised as himself, his brow ridge shooting a bit higher than usual.

“You know how work goes. Lots of commissions make for not much time for scale treatment, you understand,” He says, “Now about the Mirabal sisters; I can see what you were trying to say with the story, but in Cardassia a leader such as Chujillo”— his accent slithered out—“would never have taken power in the first place. Our peer-reviewed system prevents this.”

At any other time, Julian would’ve jumped at the opportunity to dissect what peer-reviewed meant (he suspects that’s why Garak said it), but right now all he could think about was finding out why Garak was so evasive.

“Garak,” He needled in what others have said is his “doctor’s voice”. “Do not try to avoid the subject, not with me.”

For a moment, Garak’s eyes darkened. Not in anger, but something more soulful; a bone deep exhaustion that settled heavily on armored shoulders. It was like all the life had left his body, leaving only the aftermaths of the wire in its place. And then— just as quickly as it came— it left, leaving only Garak’s saccharine sweet smile.

“My dear, there is no need to worry.�� He said simply. No further explanation, no more platitudes, no lies. The worry in Julian’s heart turned desperate.

He was losing Garak.

Julian sat quietly with that thought. Garak sipped his tea. Finally, “I had a cat when I was younger.”

Garak looked at him over his tea.

“And here I thought I knew everything about you, my dear doctor.” Garak smiled lightly. Smiled as if Julian wasn’t plunging down a rabbit hole of what-ifs.

“She was the cuddliest thing— a calico, meaning she had all these multicolored spots on her fur. Gosh, she was beautiful. And wherever I went, she followed. Always my little shadow. If I sat down, she jumped onto my lap. If I showered, she would wait in the sink. Every night, she would find a way to sleep on me, even if I turned over.” Julian smiled sadly at the thought— it had been so long since he thought of Mu’izza.

“While that’s quite touching doctor, I don’t know how that’s related to totalitarian dictatorships of Latin America.” Garak once again took up his teacup.

“One day, she just got up and left. Jumped out of an open window, maybe. I don’t know.”

Garak frowned, “I’m sorry my dear, that must’ve been heartbreaking,” After a few moments of considering pause, “If she was fed well, taken care of—loved— then why did she leave you so suddenly?”

“Because cats hide when they go off to die, Garak. They don’t want to be vulnerable in front of others.”

Julian looked at Garak, really looked at him. And Garak saw his desperation, his pleading for him to understand. And of course Garak understood; the doctor was hardly ever subtle with his metaphors.

“Ah,” Garak said simply, tea cup placed gently back into its plate.

“Sometimes I think if Mu’izza stayed and let me take care of her, that maybe I could’ve saved her.” Julian’s voice got softer at the end, cushioned by a long standing sadness.

“Or maybe you couldn’t have. Maybe you would have just prolonged her suffering by helping her. Doesn’t she deserve to die when she wants?” Garak retorted. He was angry, he realized suddenly. He was so angry. Garak wanted to snarl, to bear his teeth and swipe their meals off the table, watch his delicate tea cup shatter. He wanted to throttle the doctor, make it so he could never breach his psych again.

Through his newfound fury, Garak heard the doctor’s voice flutter in again, “You’re right. Maybe she would’ve been miserable. But we’re peddling hypotheticals again. The fact of the matter is my little Mu’izza was still vulnerable when she died. It didn’t matter where she went to die, she always would’ve been powerless. At least with me, I could’ve had her in my lap, could’ve shielded her from the cold, could’ve—“ Julian’s voice wobbles, just slightly. It’s enough for him to pause, take a deep breath, and look away. Garak notices the barely there shimmer of tears in his eyes.

Oh, my dear Julian, Garak realizes. The anger at the doctor ebbs, turning into an aching love that moves him to wrap his hands around the doctors’. Julian looks back at Garak, surprised. For a moment all he does is look at their enjoined hands and Garak worries he miscalculated. Then, slowly, Julian squeezes.

“I just… I just wish I could’ve said goodbye. That’s what I really want.” Julian whispers, just for Garak to hear.

“I see that now, my dear. I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories.” Garak returns the squeeze.

“Are you sorry enough to not make more bad memories?” Julian asks. His voice was like a molten sword dipped in oil, fiery words hidden beneath a tempered tone.

“You cannot ask that of me, my dear. Please do not ask that of me.” Garak pleads. Julian frowns, worrying his lip between his teeth. Finally, he nods.

“Then, I only ask that you let me say goodbye. Will you allow me that?”

“Of course, my dear doctor.”

Julian squeezes his hand and makes to let go, but Garak holds on. Perhaps it’s selfish of him to cling to the doctor. But now that he’s felt the warmth of his hand and the breadth of his care, Garak can’t imagine letting him go now.

yeah this is bad but idc. no beta, no thoughts, just pure procrastination from finals.

good night everyone ! sweet dreams to me (i will be playing solitaire until 3:30 AM)

#garashir #julian bashir x elim garak #julian bashir #elim garak #fanfic #writing

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natjennie · 1 year

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I love when Mike addresses the ghosts at all but my favorite is when he says something and then the camera cuts out and they're not even there. like they're in a completely different wing of the house.

so I like to think he slowly becomes more ingratiated into the ghost crew because I mean robin saved his life and they're his wife's family at this point so the least he can do is really buckle down and get to know them all, so he pays attention. he listens to alison's side of the conversation and tries to pipe up more, nervous about interrupting but trying to be more proactive anyway. he memorizes the board, names deaths and time periods he's got like the back of his hand. and he watches. their presence isn't easy to spot, because the only one with a physical impact is julian, but he keeps an eye out anyway. when the TV is on, he can make a pretty good guess at who's program it is. when there are new books in the stands he makes a note to look up a summary. when that window is open, it's thomas soliloquizing, but when it's that one it's for the captain's garden view. he's starting to get it. and the ghosts already incorporated Mike into their lives deaths anyway, so they're largely unmoved and confused by the effort, but sure, maybe a little grateful that he's more mindful of them.

and when he thinks he knows them, really knows them, he starts talking. because if there's one thing mike cooper knows how to do, it's talk. he stops jotting down ghost ideas to bring to alison and starts vocalizing them. passing by the tv and there's a match on? he remarks to pat that he's about to try a new sandwich recipe, if he wants to join him for lunch. absolutely nailed it, mike, gold star work. problem is, pat is in the "living" room listening to thomas describe the worst denim outfit he could imagine. and he lived through the 70s. but mike thinks he's crushing it.

on a trip to the kitchen for tea at 5am when he can't stay asleep one night, who the fuck else might be up this early? cap, that's who! so he leans out the window towards the makeshift starting block and does a couple hushed whoops of encouragement, "hell yeah, rise and grind, bruv! you got this, captain, for king and country and all that!" fuck yeah, mike, got em again. passionate, respectful, cap would love that. incredible work, yet again. he's gonna get a good grade in dead person friends. but, unfortunately, it's Sunday and the captain pushes his warm-up to 0800 hours for a sensible 0900 lap, to be more respectful to alison on her day of rest. but again, Mike is convinced he's doing great.

do you see my vision?

#bbc ghosts #the captain #pat butcher #mike cooper #alison cooper #I'd make this a fic but I'm so stupid

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bellewintersroe · 1 year

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How the Easy Boys Act during Bastogne x reader headcanons.

So I wanted to explore about how each of the different boys would handle being in a relationship during Bastogne. I want to try keep this (semi) realistic especially surrounding the rules of fraternisation in the army. Ps - I hope you guys enjoy! I love writing headcanons but struggle with motivation so feel free to send me requests of any headcannons/ scenarios you guys wanna see!

Eugene Roe:

Let’s start with the most notable boy within the Bastogne episodes. Gene goes through so much as a medic, although he’s so selfless throughout his whole experience.

I think because he’s already worrying about so many of the men getting hurt he’s also got the anxiety of worrying if you’re safe.

after a heavy artillery barrage he would pray for your health and safety. And I mean that. He’s a good Catholic boy (I think) so he probably does this morning and night.

whenever he has chance/ a safe opportunity he would come to see you. I think he’d feel guilty about coming empty handed, and when there’s other people around his gestures have to be small, such as knocking your hand or arm with his.

The more under pressure he becomes the more you’d see it. I think he’d be so stressed, his shell shock is evident and it’s painful to see as a partner. I think he’d even attempt to pull away to a certain extent before he realised that would do no good.

probably gets really bad anxiety if you’re exposed to the gunfire, and definitely wants to protect you from seeing some of the horrific scenes that you’d most undoubtedly see anyway.

puts a hand in front of you if you’re walking to fast. He’d never just randomly sneak off with you just to have ‘alone time’ because he’s aware of the risks. He’d never EVER gamble with your life- holy shit until you get outta there he’s a panicked mess.

Needs a partner who can talk to him, even if he doesn’t feel like opening up, just knowing you’d semi understand is reassuring.

finally is able to give you the biggest bear hug of all time behind a half bombed out building. It’s kinda emotional and longing, but Gene would sigh into your hair or your shoulder, and tighten his grip when he realised how desperately he’d needed your love and comfort.

you’d be a real comfort to him in Bastogne, however during the actual battle of the bulge I think he’d be very overworked on the lines. Even if you are on the lines he fears for you and always tries his best to get you further towards some kinda safer area.

Carwood Lipton:

Alike Eugene, he’s under an immense amount of pressure.

somehow he manages to keep morale up, and seeing you safe everyday and just flashing him an smile would really send a sense of relief and comfort through him.

like he seriously has even more motivation to fight and come home safe, because if you.

it sounds cheesy, ik, but Lip is a man deeply in love and he couldn’t forget that even if he tried.

strictly professional, ok. So no sneaky business… the furthest your relationship probably gets in Bastogne is smiles of reassurance and lingering touches on the upper back.

like you get knocked over and winded once, Lipton practically scrambles over and collapses next to you, pulling you up out of the snow with the most horrified expression.

nah he’d be so good at calming you down and helps you take deep breaths. His hand would be soothing over your upper back, and when nobody’s looking he maybe, maybe might sneak a kiss on your cheek.

so soft and caring. Seriously. You’re the first person he looks for after any serious bombing.

Babe Heffron:

So I think there’s Babe before Julian’s death and then Babe after his friends death.

before he’s pretty good at keeping morale up, he’s kinda fidgety and nervous, but for the most part he just wants to make you smile. Would do his utter most to cheer you up, even if it’s just making a little snow man for you.

Ah he’d be so cute. He’s like a big kid at heart and he’d have this big, longing eyes watching you wherever you went. He feels comfortable knowing you’re within a distance that you can see one another. People know you two have a relationship, but for the sake of rules and regulations it’s kept under wraps.

After Julian however, you’d kinda say ‘scrap the rules’ and sneak off to where you know is Foxhole is. It’s him and Spina, but you sneak in and hug his arm, whispering words of reassurance.

when Gene comes in you’d kinda panic, but you realise it’s only him so it’s not bad. He ain’t no snitch.

I think Babe would become mentally tougher after Julian’s death- well he comes across like this, but he wouldn’t wanna talk about what happened with you because he knows it would make him into a wreck.

hates crying and being vulnerable in front of you so probably tells you to ‘go away’ but IMMEDIATELY takes it back omfg.

would try to hide in foxholes with you just so he can at least have some well needed comfort from his girl that makes everything better.

Don Malarkey:

I think similar to Babe he’s a lot different when he first goes to Bastogne compared to when he leaves. (As many of the guys understandably would be).

but he’s the funny guy, he’s popular, he’s witty and hilarious, not to forget he’d be such a gentleman with you. Literally so kind and gentle. He’d always walk across the forest to come see you, every single day- no fail.

All the other nurses or women think it’s soooo romantic, even though you two are usually just sat talking. (He’d deffo sneak a kiss or two in there).

so when he loses several of his closest buddies in such a short amount of time, he goes into a deep shock, and although the visits don’t stop, you can tell he’s a shell of what he once was.

I think Don would really crave that physical comfort, like hugging him, stroking his hair- but it’s soo difficult to get that level of privacy, especially out in the open. I think this is something that you could struggle with as a couple.

Malarkey would have these great big sad, puppy eyes and you’d practically just have to bear hug him at the most random times. He’s so soft- I can’t.

Everybody knows the shit Malarkey has been through, they understand, so if they see you two embracing they turned a blind eye to it- nobody is about to snitch.

Lewis Nixon:

Ok so I feel like you and Lewis would be stationed in different areas. Like you’d be further back/ forwards on the line? Maybe stationed in the town?

anyway this makes it increasingly difficult to see one another, and I think Lewis has a real, niggling anxiety about your health and safety.

like at night he’d struggle to sleep over the thought of you being as cold as he is.

I think he’d feel so detached from your relationship, and there’s nothing neither of you can do/ prioritise in such a horrific situation.

when you two are around each other there’s always soft, subtle gestures that are sorta toned down versions of the way you both really want to act.

Maybe Lewis sees your shrunken appearance for the first time in a week or two, and he’s watching you with massively sad eyes, he’s bringing you into where him and Winters stay, offering you food, coffee.

He’d probably question why they’re not taking care of you better, but it’s kinda like? There is nobody to really take care of you, everybody’s in the same boat and Lewis hates it.

Has to settle for giving you friendly side hugs but all he really wants to do is wrap you up in a blanket and huddle you to somewhere safer, warmer, better than this.

he probably just wants a cuddle :/.

Joe Liebgott:

I think at first Joe would play by the rules because you wanted to. Like you’re worried of getting into trouble and want to be cautious with expressing your relationship too openly.

So he’d go a long with it at first, but I can imagine him stopping by your foxhole or wherever you’re stationed, even just to walk past and give you a smile. He 100% looks out for you, and if he doesn’t see you he’s like, “hey where tf is she? She was here yesterday?!” “She’s washing her hair, Liebgott…”

I feel like something might happen? Let’s say you get wounded, it’s nothing too severe, but it’s a close call. After that Joe is literally like “fuck the rules” and would come hop into your foxhole.

even if there’s other people in there, he just wants to make sure you’re ok at the end of the day.

when he can be alone with you I think he’d cover the foxhole with a blanket and practically throw himself around you. Kisses you loads, and he can barely do it properly because he’s got this childlike grin wiped across his face.

I think it really makes a difference to Liebgott that he can spend time with you, it’s so cold and miserable out there, that he takes anything he can get, and cuddling with you is his fav way to warm up, aw.

maybe gets roaming hands at one point and you have to be like “Joe, we’re sat in a hole surrounded by Germans, are you really trying this on rn?”

obviously Joe gets taken off the line during Bastogne because he’s quite literally at his breaking point. (Me and @liebgotts-lovergirl have just been discussing Lieb actually so all credit to her as it’s given me inspo!)

He’s so stressed out and it would be painful to see, I think he’d fully avoid taking it out on you because that would make him feel like the worlds worst person, but at the same time all he was is a stupid frickin hug and sometimes it’s so difficult to get.

please go visit him when he’s taken off the line, it’ll be a lot easier and god knows Lieb needs it 🥺

Would be so soft and happy with you if you surprise visited/ snuck up on him omg.

Shifty Powers:

This boy is soooo respectful, ok. He’s caring, kind, sweet, but respect is his utter most priority.

so I don’t think he’d be flaunting your relationship out and about in Bastogne? Seriously there’s more heavier things to focus on.

BUT Shifty 100% thinks about you and your relationship every single day. Like Gene, I think he prays for your safety, he’s constantly on the look out for danger- but also now he’s watching danger surrounding you.

war can be a dangerous place to have distractions such as a relationship, it’s nothing personal, but Shifty fears if he loses focus something bad will happen to those around him.

when the coast is clear and he’s not putting anybody into danger, he’d always be so polite and come over to ask if you’re ok. He’d help you dig out your foxhole some more and you’d patch him up or get him new gloves in return.

he’d be eternally grateful, and then probably try to put the gloves on you instead because he’s worried your fingers are gonna fall off hahaha.

when you leave Bastogne and have privacy again Shifty cuddles you sosososos much, there’s so much hand holding and small kisses- he’s 10000% gonna make up for lost time.

Ron Speirs:

I’m gonna be honest IDEK HOW YOUD GET IN A RELARIONSHIP WITB HIM INNTHE FIRST OKACE.

He’s so sexy and intimidating, but especially during the war his mind would NOT be on dating. But let’s assume it is, ok?

I think Ron has no option but to stay focused, you technically are his weakness, so whenever he sees you he has a difficult time maintaining his demeanour.

small things like ‘But she’s alright, right?’ And just asking where you guys are stationed fill him with relief.

when he thinks about you all alone in that foxhole he gets the sweats, he starts shaking and he feels pathetic, but it’s the only time he’d allow himself to feel that way. He must operate like a soldier, not like a little boy in love.

it’s just very conflicting, because he is very much deeply in love, he just can’t show it.

when you get time alone after Bastogne I think Ron almost breaks down. His head would drop and he’s pulling you into his arms, apologising unnecessarily.

everybody's under such an immense amount of pressure, so I feel like he’d need some good words of reassurance, but also he’d just need a longgggg hug to embrace the comfort you provide him with.

Skip Muck:

Nothing bad happens to him ok? Let’s just pretend here for the sake of a fic.

he’s a ray of sunshine, but I think he’d be so amazing at reading peoples thoughts and feelings, especially yours. So when he can see you’re particularly more upset than usual, he grabs you, preventing you from leaving with everybody else and takes your hand, pulling you into a gentle forehead kiss.

I think he’d be better with his actions rather than words, so sometimes all he needs to do is cup your face and just gaze over you before you’d fall into his chest in relief.

thank god you’ve got a guy like Skip, he’d look out for you so much, keep your morale up, and like Babe, I think he’d do super cute stuff like attempt to make you a little snowman to pass time and avert your minds from immanent danger.

Writes about you to his family at home.

probably wants to keep you well and fed. All the rations are slim, but he would save you his or sneak you some more food, seriously he’s so caring over your health and well-being.

Joe Toye:

He’s so handsomeeee oh my-

so I think there’d be a lot of lingering and longing gazes. When you first go to Bastogne, he’s probs wanting your attention so bad for more selfish reasons? If you can call normal boyfriend tendency’s ‘selfish’.

but when things very quickly become more severe and traumatising, those longing gazes turn into ones of sadness and care.

he’d really watch out for you, and he’d never let you walk anywhere unless he was there, or he’d at least offer.

“I’m gonna go into the town for a couple hours today, Joe.”

“That’s a good idea, keepin’ yourself nice and safe away from the lines, baby.”

wants you protected and safe at all costs so I think he’d ask people like Guarnere and Malarkey, those he’s closest to, to watch out for you when he can’t.

grabs your belt holes to pull you to safety, at times he’d be tempted to lift you over his shoulder and carry you to safety, he wouldn’t live with himself if anything bad happened to you.

when he does get badly wounded, you’re both in shock, it all happens so quick and Joe is so upset when you stumble on the scene and have to see him like that.

He feels bad for seeing you so upset? Like you’re traumatised and he can’t sleep that night without images of your sad, paled face in his mind.

he’s worried he’s somehow scared you off?? The extent of his injuries are horrific, but he’s still alive. He’d be worried about you every second until you are allowed to finally come visit him.

oh my god, he’d be so so relieved. A little worried, but genuinely at peace to see that you’re safe and okay.

Alton More:

Big sweetheart, a little naughty so kinda plays around the rules. Like fraternisation? Idk her, I’m in 3rd platoon and she’s in 2nd sooo stuff your fraternisation rules.

smirks at you, especially when he sees you all wrapped up in the coat he stole for you. He’s never been happier than seeing you warm.

1000% would attempt to sneak into your foxhole? I just think he’s not good at being sneaky however and gets caught and told to go back to his own foxhole.

gets worried tho when he sees you’ve given your coat to a more injured soldier, he hurried over and he’s wrapping his arms around you, worried as to why your lips are so blue and your teeth are chattering.

“damn it y/n, I think you’re turning into a little ice cube.”

When his hands are warm he sticks them under your shirt to warm up your skin, opposing when he usually sticks his cold hands into your warm shirt. He’s not that cruel however, especially not in god damn Bastogne.

Has a bit of a mental breakdown because he thinks you’re wounded when he can’t find you, like he fully freaks tf out, but he’s engulfing you in a HUGE bear hug when he finds out safe as sound. (You were just singing in a foxhole with Alley and Liebgott).

seriously a massive sweetheart tho, steals chocolate for you, attempts to somehow mix the chocolate and the snow to make you ‘chocolate ice cream’ it kinda flops but it’s so cute.

#band of brothers x reader #joe liebgott #band of brothers #Band of brothers headcanons

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xieni-logs · 9 months

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All of the Astral express crew members with chaotic child! reader

like imagine all of them having fun on some planet, looking at all the sights but then child reader sees something that piques their interest and lets go of whoever's hand they're holding onto and POOF they're gone.

and then the crew panics and chaos ensues :3

Vacation on Jarilo-VI

note: imagined an actual child!reader. ive never written or read something like this so this was a fun experiment! the ask is really fun to imagine though, i hope i did it justice!!

The Astral Express Crew are visiting Belobog after helping the stellaron crisis but this time, it's purely for a vacation. you weren't allowed to go last time and it really bummed you out so you're real excited about going!!

first stop is visiting Bronya and Seele in the Supreme Guardian's office. March and MC happily run up to greet the two and Dan Heng is introducing them to Welt and Himeko. their eyes are off you for a second and suddenly, Seele spots you trying to climb the ceiling high bookshelves! you're not too far up but enough that no one can grab you down. Welt is trying to convince you to go down, using his powers to slow you in case you fall. Himeko is yelling for you to be careful while apologizing profusely to Bronya and Seele. Dan Heng and MC are at the bottom of the shelf, arms out in an attempt to catch you in case you fall. thankfully, you get down fine. but Welt is grounding you, literally. you're banned from climbing on things for the rest of the trip.

the second stop is Serval's workshop. Himeko is talking to Serval about the machines and all that while March is showing Welt how the little connector puzzle works. you were listening to March before some of the tools caught your eye. suddenly, you're in the back of Serval's workshop playing with Serval's scrap pieces. MC is the first to notice you're gone, alerting Dan Heng and Welt. there's a sort of assumption you've gone far, so que a panicked Welt slamming the door of the workshop open trying to find you. you couldn't have gone far... or maybe you could? Welt's not sure how much to overestimate or underestimate your ability to go missing. 10 minutes later and Himeko finds you happily playing with bits and pieces of metal scraps and a pair of pliers in the back of the workshop.

the third stop is Boulder Town and god, the entire crew is swearing they're going to keep a close eye on you. Dan Heng stops you from climbing in the cart full of geomarrow and Welt is holding your hand almost all the time (although he doesn't notice that you pulled away a couple times, he's a little too focused hearing an explanation of geomarrows from some miners). but then you meet the moles. and you and Hook get along great! and now you want to play with the moles. and Hook is incredible at swaying people into things. you are now free to play with the moles!

Hook really did mean it when she promised that she'd keep an eye on you and that the moles wouldn't leave Boulder Town. she really did mean it! but you were practically begging Hook to take you to Rivet Town as she retold her adventures with MC to fetch Junjun. you only meant to take a peak, a quick one. but then a peak turned into showing you the street of the restaurant where Natasha took kids who were good, and then it turned to a few streets more, until it was a whole town tour. Hook couldn't help herself, you seemed so interested in her stories about the town!

back in Boulder Town, the Astral Express Crew is ready to move onto the last stop and theyre looking for you. March asks Julian who's hesitant to say but eventually fesses that Hook took you to take a peak of Rivet Town. the original Jarilo-IV Trailblaze Team is worried and there's a bit of initial confusion, Himeko and Welt thinking Hook simply took you to the next town over. and Dan Heng has to explain that Rivet Town is infested with fragmentum monsters. poor Julian is bombarded with question like whether or not you and Hook went alone, how long you've been gone, etc...

they do find you and Hook, eventually. it was about an hour long search. it just happened that you and Hook got tired and decided to rest in one spot for a while, who knows how long it’d take the crew to find you guys had you not stop exploring.

the fourth and final destination is the Robot Settlement! the entire crew understands that a LOT can go wrong at the settlement; so many crevices and corners you could run to, robots who may not recognize you aren't a threat or are malfunctioning. Dan Heng explained the crew's concerns to Svarog and Clara who quickly come up with a solution: Svarog isn't letting you out of his sight!

while Clara gives the crew a tour of the Robot Settlement, Svarog accompanied to watch you. he catches you nearly running away to get a closer look at a robot twice, four times for something shiny in the stone walls, and once for something on the ground. he couldnt quite figure out what made that part of the snow covered ground was so much more special than the rest for you, and neither could you, which is why it was so interesting.

Svarog is pretty reliable most the time, he practically raised Clara so everyone trusted him with you. maybe Clara was a lot more mellow as a child compared to you but this 'take care of a child' task difficulty increased by tenfold when it came to you. how Svarog managed to lose you is unknown; all he knew was one moment you were crawling all over him, asking him questions, then telling him you wanted to walk, and the next, you were gone.

if they were panicking before, they were having a full on break down now. Svarog lost you and now couldn't find you within his field of vision! with how reliable Svarog was made to sound, they feared the worst. maybe you fell down the cliff, what if a robot malfunctioned and fought you? Svarog tried calculating how far you could've gotten and how likely it was for you to be found but no one could quite decide on when they last saw you.

a wave of relief washes over them when they find you asking a robot questions. honestly, the entire crew feared you'd died or something, though no one wanted to say it. unaware of this feeling, you're caught off guard as March, Himeko, then the rest of the astral express crew rushed over to give you a tight hug. Himeko scolded you a bit for making the crew worry but she was more happy you were fine than anything.

the crew may find it stress inducing and troublesome when you disappear, but they wouldn't trade you for anything in the world!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #child reader #the astral express family #the astral express x reader #the astral express #not the proudest of this but it was fun #xieni's requests #never wrote nor read a child reader before so this was a fun experiment!

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moonah-rose · 4 months

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This was what I originally thought was going to happen as I was watching the exorcist scene. Had planned to write this as a fic but don't think I've got the energy.

Everything is the same up until the exorcism. Only when Alison gets down there, she sees the ghosts all stood in front of the Vicar, frozen as he speaks. They shout at her that they can't move. Alison tries to tell him to stop but Betty encourages it to continue. Alison slaps the Bible out of his hands but its too late - a bright light shines down on the ghosts, blinding Alison for a few seconds, then when she opens her eyes they're gone.

Panicking, she begins running around the house, calling their names, begging them to show themselves so she knows they're OK. But nothing. Eventually Betty finds her collapsed in tears. She asks why she could be upset and Alison explodes at her about how she had no right to do that, how the ghosts were her family and she's just sent them away. Betty is shocked and then feels awful once the truth settles but also berates Alison for not being honest. Mike finds Alison and holds her, telling his mum it's best she goes.

Alison doesn't sleep all night, having waited for the ghosts to come back if they could. The next morning Mike suggests they take a walk with Mia. They walk towards the lake and a bereft Alison is promising Mia she's going to hear all about her aunts and uncles who loved her so much. Like how sweet Auntie Kitty was, how naughty Uncle Julian was-

"And how handsome Uncle Thomas was?"

And Alison replies: "Yes how handsome Uncle Thom..."

She pauses. Then turns her head.

The ghosts are stood there, on the other side of the fence, smiling at her. She screams in shock and relief and Mike is confused but also relieved once Alison confirms they're all there and all safe. She asks what happened and they say they saw the same light but then woke up outside the grounds.

And now they can't get back in.

The exorcism didn't make them get sucked off; it banished them from the grounds. Alison asks if that means they're stuck in Maddox's place now. But Cap has already done a run and found he could go farther then Maddox. There doesn't seem to be any boundaries for them anymore.

Kitty begs Alison to call the Vicar back so he can undo it. Julian suggests perhaps a Satanic priest might be better. Alison hesitates and then asks; "Is that what you guys really want? You're free now. You can go wherever."

That hasn't really sank in for them, they're more concerned with being separated from Alison. But Alison tells them she's not interested in staying in the house either; not without them. If they're gone then she and Mike might as well take the golf resorts offer and buy a new place - once which the ghosts are more than happy to visit. However; they're also free to go where they want in the world, without restrictions.

It takes some sorting out as Alison sells the place and the guys stay on Maddox's land for the meanwhile until the moving vans are there. But this time as they drive out, the car and van stops, Alison beeps the horn once they exit the gates and all the ghosts pile in to either the backseat of the car or the van. Then they drive off together.

Cut to a few Christmas' later, the now loaded Coopers are setting the table and the ghosts start to arrive but in different orders. Alison welcomes them back happily, Mia can't see them anymore but she still waves to them when her mum says they're there. As they sit, Alison asks what they've all been up to in their various travels - except for Julian, the others aren't able to call or text her. Fanny finally snuck onto a luxury cruise but didn't seem as good as the Titanic. Thomas went to Venice to see if much had changed ("still nice"). Cap has been visiting WWII memorials and trying to find information on Havers. Pat visits his grandson. Humphrey has visited Paris. Kitty had discovered nightclubbing in London and joined in many hen parties. Julian goes to the House of Commons to watch Rachel speak out (he also does other stuff not suitable for Mia's ears). Robin says he went to the moon - everyone gasps- but he's only joking, he went to NASA but wasn't stupid enough to try to climb aboard any launched satellites- maybe next manned mission though.

Alison reminds them that they're all free to stay over Christmas as long as they want, but they say how they wouldn't impose for too long as they wouldn't want to be too in the way - though there are spare rooms for them to share when they need. They are all happy to spend time with the Coopers, coming back whenever they can, but always promising to spend Christmas together.

#this isnt a My Idea Is Better thing #but i just really want the ghosts to not be trapped anymore #especially my robin #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts spoilers #a christmas gift

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 10 months

Note

Hiii! May I, please, request the M6 with an MC who doesn’t show a lot of emotions and is regarded as apathetic by strangers, who actually likes to joke around and shows affection through quality time or acts of service?

Thank you 🫶🫶

The Arcana HCs: When MC comes across colder than they are

~ aww, anon! I had that struggle all through my teens, most of my friends told me they were scared to approach me at first until we actually talked XD I hope you enjoy these! - brainrot ~

Julian

Let's get this straight: you're smart, attractive, capable, single, and (seemingly) emotionally distant? Consider him whipped

Does he find you slightly intimidating? yes. Is that intimidation lethally attractive to him? ... also yes. Is this his sign to play off of that detached attitude as the roguish charmer he is? absolutely

So you can imagine his surprise when, as the two of you get closer, you start to show this playful, affectionate side that he never would have guessed at

Now he loves you twice as much as he used to, and he didn't even think that that was possible

Loves it when you spend quality time with him. He's so used to bouncing around the world by himself that having you set aside time to be with him is wonderfully new and fulfilling

Acts of service are nice too, but he gets so flustered and worked up if you don't let him reciprocate. Please let him reciprocate

Loves to tell the story of the cool, ruthless apprentice who stole his heart when he stole into their shop

Asra

They've known you for nine years. They know about your accidentally stand-offish exterior and how nice you actually are once you're comfortable around someone

You're not the only best friend he has who's like that *cough*Muriel*cough*

It does mean a lot to them that you feel comfortable enough around them to be playful and affectionate

It makes you that much sweeter to fall in love with, and that much harder to hide his feelings from

They find it endlessly entertaining to watch person after person approach you thinking that you're aloof, only to find out that you're genuinely kind and caring

He loves spending quality time with you. Lazing upstairs in the afternoon sun, reading a book and daydreaming while you do your thing snuggled next to him? Bliss. Pure bliss

They also appreciate your acts of service, but usually because they're terrible at remembering to do their share of the cleaning (that poor stove salamander really deserves a cleaner wood pile)

Nadia

She's pretty used to having an accurate and in-depth first impression of someone

And yet, despite you coming off as aloof and uninterested, she keeps catching glimpses of this wonderful warmth in your eyes

Color her intrigued

Very honored when you begin to act more casual and playful around her. It means you trust her enough to be yourself

She does feel guilty sometimes that you always manage to make quality time for her, when her schedule is often so hectic that she can't reciprocate to the same extent

However, when she can enjoy quality time with you (and she often does!) she dotes on you endlessly and savors every moment

She didn't expect acts of service from you. She's used to having assistance around the clock, and on top of that she values her independence and a peer-based relationship with you

But when you notice that she's tired, and have breakfast brought to her chambers so that she can sleep in? She's in love. She's so very in love

Muriel

You. He gets you. You are his kind of person

Finally, somebody he doesn't have to explain himself to! Though he still finds it a little disarming that his intimidating presence doesn't deter you from wanting to get to know him better

He knows from his own experience how valuable your trust and affection are, and as much as he hesitates to admit it, it gives him butterflies every time you open up to him a little bit more

Now when Asra forces him to attend a multiperson event, he has company when he stands in the corner and puts off "do not approach" vibes

It also means he has company when he feels safe enough to relax a little bit and enjoy connection with you. He has quality time for you in abundance (unless he's recharging his social battery)

He's also the kind of guy who prefers to let his actions speak for himself, so when you do little things to brighten up his day it means the world to him

You two around strangers + Inanna = peak intimidation tactics

Portia

Portia can get along with anyone if she puts her mind to it. She's not put off by your aura at all

If anything, she mistakes your apathy for mystery:

The powerful magician who calls themself an apprentice that the Countess had clairvoyant dreams about, sailing through the palace like they're untouchable. That's so cool

Very proud of herself when she "unlocks" your relaxed, affectionate, funny side. It means you see her as a worthy partner

She's the kind of person who likes to cram as much into her day as possible, so it takes a small paradigm shift for her to get used to your offers of quality time. She loves it once she does, though

You make her so flustered with your acts of service. She's used to being the person watching everyone's back and making sure things run smoothly behind the scenes

Having that kind of attention turned back in her direction is new and unexpected and more charming than she thought it would be

Likes to use your intimidation in important meetings because she comes off so friendly

Lucio

Right, so you triggered him a little bit at first

You're the first person in three years who can see and interact with him, and no matter what he does he feels like he keeps running into a wall of ice. To say you infuriate him is an understatement

(It doesn't help that you remind him of his mother in that way)

Of course, this only makes him more determined to earn your approval and affection

And he is so gratified when he receives it from you

It's a good thing that you like spending quality time with him, because with all the traveling the two of you do as journeymen there's lots of space for that

He doesn't know to recognize your acts of service until the two of you have to travel separately for a bit, and when he realizes how much you do for him every day he nearly breaks down into Melchior's fur (Mercedes was with you)

He laugh uproariously at all of your jokes, regardless of how good or bad they are

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #the arcana crack #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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icameheretoreadstuff · 7 months

Text

Kinktober day 17 - Threesome

Pairing: Archie x Reggie x F!Reader Warnings: 18+ ! MDNI!, NSFW, Smut, Threesome, Spanking ++ Note: This is a request I got on AO3 and I just had to write it! Request: Could you do an Archie Reader friend where they are studying in the music room? She teases him, and he playfully puts her over his knee, pulls down her panties, and spanks her. She gets wet, and he spreads her legs to get a better look and fingers her. If you could add a Reggie or Julian Cameo, that would be great. A/N: Masterpost & Links is pinned on my tumblr.

The hallways were quiet, the only sound you could hear was the pen of Archie's scribbles down in his journal. He was sitting on a chair staring out the window, he sighed loudly as he waited. "Are you soon done?" you asked Archie as he was finishing up. "Yeah, our project's nearly done" He nodded. "We just have to go through each of our own work together" he sighed. "Where is Reggie?" he asked and looked up from his notebook and looked at the door. You stood up from the chair and stretched, You shrugged as you looked at the door yourself, "wait, there he is" you said as you tilted your head to see clearly. You walked over to the door and opened it as Reggie came in with a couch.

He held it from the middle of the two seaters like it was nothing. "There's no way I'm sitting on one of those chairs" He said simple and leaned the couch down with an ease. He walked around and sat down comfertable. "Well, school's empty and I want to get started on this thing" Reggie said as you felt his eyes cheking you out. You smirked at him as you looked over to Archie, he just smiled and shaked his head "I don't mind staying here for a bit" Archie said to Reggie, and then they both looked over to you.

You looked at them both with a smile on your face. "You both look really good today" You teased as you studied them both. Reggie smirked, You looked over at Reggie with a need to taste him. He sat on the couch with his legs spread apart from eachother, it looked like he wanted you to see where his dick was. "Thanks, beautiful" Archie flirted back, he sat closest to you. He moved forward on the chair, he curled the notebook up as he leaned his shoulders on his knees. His head tilted up as he looked at you.

You turned around as your skirt flew almost up reaviled that you weren't wearing any underwear. You turned on some music. "Background music" you said simple as you turned around and took of your jacket. The jacket fell on a chair beside you. Archie and Reggie couldn't stop looking at you, captivated of your every move. You had on a singlet that was hugging your breast, showing cleavage. Reggie moved his hips alittle, You could tell he already had a boner. You looked over to Archie, he was more difficult to read. "Like what you see?" You said and dragged up your skirt so high they could see your left asscheek, the skirt fell back down hugging your hips as you walked over to Archie.

You leaned your finger under his chin and leaned it up twoards you as leaned closer to test him. You could hear his breath deep and barely calm as he stared at your lips. "No panties?" Archie slowly leaned in and grabbed your thigh and his hand moved up twoards your ass. You smirked as you pushed him down on his chair. You straddled him playfully "no panties" You smiled at the victory of knowing he was turned on aswell. "I want you both to touch me" you said as you thrusted on his shaft, He groaned as he grabbed your hips.

You turned your head twoards Reggie, he swallowed as you smirked at him. "What do you think?" you asked Reggie as you unstraddled Archie and walked over to Reggie. You placed your foot between Reggie's thighs.

Your skirt fell backwards so he could see your clit, His left eyebrow flew up as he inhaled and leaned back to the couch, he tilted his head to get a better view. "I think" He smirked, "You're such a tease" He said as he softly grabbed the inside of your leg and his hand moved up twoards your clit. His big finger playfully touched your wet folds, he flicked your folds playfully making you twitch a little.

He smirked "Look at you, Youre already so wet for us" He said as he pushed his finger inside you, His finger curled up inside you, tickling your g-sport. "What are you guys going to do about it" you moaned shamelessly as you could hear his finger squelch in and out. "I think youre gonna have to share" you smirked as you thrusted yourself on Reggie's finger. "Look at you" Reggie began "so needy" he said and thrusted one more finger inside you. "You want us to take care of you?" he smirked. You hummed "mhm." Archie moved his chair over closer to you.

Reggie playfully spun you around, Archie grabbed your hand and moved you closer to him. "I think we are gonna have to punish you a little for being such a tease" Archie said as he orderd your to lie on his lap, You were facing Reggie's crotch perfectly. You held your head up by grabbing both of Reggie's thighs. You felt Archie drag up your skirt as he groaned and spanked you causing you to moan. "I think we are gonna have to put that pretty mouth to work" Archie said as he spanked you once more causing you to moan. "Yes, please" you hummed as you saw Reggie took off his pants and you helped him by dragging it down to his knees.

"Gonna have to shut her up somehow" Reggie agreed as his dick flew out of his underpants. Archie smirked as he began to tease you with his finger. Everytime your ass tilted down to get his finger go deeper, he spanked you. Reggie moved closer his dick to your mouth "I know youre hungry, babe" he cooed as you opened your mouth and began to suck down on his length. "That's it babe" he cooed and lied down as he looked at you sucking his length with moans escaping your lips. "Good girl" Reggie groaned and slightly thrusted his hips into your mouth. Archie spanked you once more "spread your legs for me" Archie said as you spread your legs, his hand slowly followed as you spread them and cupped your clit until his fingers found your wet folds, Archie groaned as he had a good view of your clit.

Reggie grabbed your hair into a ponytail as he moved his hand followed after your head movement. "You look good all soaking wet" Archie spanked you lightly causing you to flinch and slipped your mouth of Reggie's dick. "Did I say you could stop?" Archie said and spanked you, leaving a pinkish handprint on your asscheek. You grabbed Reggie's dick and moaned as you went back to sucking his big hard dick. "You're gonna have to do as youre told" he said and thrusted his fingers deep inside you causing you to moan. "Are you gonna be good from now on?" He asked you as he thrusted one more finger inside you, You moaned "mhm" you hummed as you bobbed your head, Reggie's dick felt so good sucking "So hungry" Reggie groaned, you began to moan shamelessly and Reggie to just melted into the couch.

Archie groaned as you began to thrust down your ass on Archie's fingers. You mouth slipped out of Reggie's dick "Please" you said as precum of Reggies dick dripped down. "Please fuck me Archie" You moaned as you licked up Reggie's precum. "Get up" He said to you, You walked off and stood curious and waited for more orders. Archie took off his pants and moved to the couch with his knees on the couch and ordered you down on all fours between him and Reggie. Archie's dick was thicker than Reggie's, you couldn't wait to feel him inside you.

Your body was trembling as Archie grabbed your hips and slowly thrusted his dick inside you. "Arch your back for me" Archie groaned as he slowly began to thrust inside you in a even pace, while he let out silent "ahh-fuck". You arched your back and went back to Reggie's dick, you looked up at him with a horny look on your face "Open" Reggie grunted as he could see how hungry you were for his dick, He grabbed your hair and held it up as you looked at him while licking his shaft. Your hot breath on his shaft made him crazy.

His head flew back as he hummed "fuck" Having his shaft inside your mouth felt so good while Archie was inside you, teasing your g-spot. You grabbed Reggie's shaft as you pushed yourself down to the end of his shaft. "Breathe through your nose,ah- yes, just like that" he groaned, You held his hips down as you slowly thrusted your mouth on his length to bottom of his shaft and up to the tip. Reggie groaned loudly.

"ahh" Archie's breathy moans were only making you hornier. Archie's hips began to get faster as he grabbed your ass and looked at your arched back. "ahh" He exhaled a breathy moan as he looked at your ass jiggle up and down on on each of his thrust into you. "Slip out" Reggie warned and moved out of the couch and took of his pants.

Archie's hips began thrusted faster as he grabbed your ass and looked at your arched back. "Ahh" He exhaled a breathy moan as he looked at your ass jiggle up and down on on each of his thrust into you. Archie moved you forward and pushed his shaft into you and slid his hands under your shirt up reavealing your breasts. You looked to the side and saw Reggie pumping his shaft looking at your breasts jiggle.

Archie cupped your breasts as he began to thrust fast into you. His hips were fast as you could feel his balls slap your clit. "Fuck" he groaned as his lap felt so good thrusting into your ass. You pushed your ass up twoards Archie ass and arched your back even more causing him to let out his horny breathy moans. "Fuck, wait" he groaned loudly as he could feel he was close to climax inside you.

You looked over at Reggie, "let's switch" Archie slipped out and began to stroke his dick. He walked off the couch and you moved up to the couch again. "Where do you want me?" you panted and looked at Reggie, he let out a groan as he walked over to you. "Face forward" He panted as he pointed to the wall, You turned your body to face the wall as your hips were on the couch facing the wall aswell. "Spread your legs for me" He groaned and you obeyed.

He came behind you and moved you up twoards the couch, Holding you around your waist. He slipped inside you as he held you tight. "So wet" he moaned and began to thrust up into you. Reggie's dick felt longer and bigger inside you as your walls clenched around his dick,

Reggie groaned as his hips thrusted hard into you, making a clap sound with his hips with each of his thrust. "ahh- fuck" He groaned as he thrusted hard into you making a clap sound with each thrust. He gripped your waist tighter as he thrusted so hard up into you it felt like you were about to fly upwards with each thrust. "I'm Close" he groaned as his hips moved slowler, but his dick felt so good inside you, you couldn't stop moaning "I'm" you felt your hips start to shake down hard on him as you climaxed.

Reggie slipped out and pumped his shaft "come here with your pretty mouth." He moved off the couch and stood infront of you. "Let us cum inside your pretty mouth" Archie groaned and you walked out off the couch and you sat down on your knees as They both pumped their dicks infront of your mouth. They placed their dicks as you opened your mouth and their warm cum sprouted down into your mouth "swallow, yeah just like that" Archie cooed "good girl" Reggie cooed.

You panted as you stood up and began to clean yourself up. Reggie took on his pants as well did Archie. They both collapsed into the couch as they began to pant. "We should do this more" you giggled as you sat between them. They looked at you and just chuckled, "you want more huh?" Reggie said as he exhaled. "How about some food first?" Archie suggested and you looked over to him and nodded. You then turned your head over to Reggie "Can't wait"

#kinktober 2023 #riverdale smut #reggie mantle smut #archie andrews smut #archie andrews x reader #reggie mantle x reader #archie andrews x you

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