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#except its day one 12 days late

definitelynotnia · 1 month

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im sorry i have to rant im so fucking pissed

my exams end on 19th and I have to get rid of some books and buy some books which are quite pricy online so I had planned on going to college street on 20th and selling my books and buying the new ones at a cheap price and i was frankly really excited about it because all I get is a one day break to relax bcz i have to start studying for entrances from 21st so all I have is 20th and i wanted to spend it at college street and then get some food and basically have like a solo date kind of thing.

and i was so so excited about it i told my boyfriend about it like 500 times bcz i kept forgetting i've already mentioned it and it was literally on my mind a lott so i kept bringing it up and ik it seems like not a big deal cz i can just sit at home and chill too but i literally do not get to go outside my house. like- the last time i went out was new years eve and after that the only time i've gone out is to school or to give my boards that is it. my mother has some weird like problem wiht me going out like even if i tell her that i just want to go to our terrace for 5 minutes just to get some fresh air she won't even allow that she'll be all suspicious and like sTaNd In ThE bAlCOnY aNd TaKe FrEsH aIr like she herself doesnt leave the house (and blames it on me and my brother ???? when have we ever stopped you bro, she said I HaVe To Be HeRe To KeEp An EyE like im 18 i dont need to be watched 24/7 stop blaming me for choices you put upon yourself) and i just feel so suffocated ALL THE TIME i feel so overstimulated and im so sick of rotting on my bed and i dont want to wait for some birthday party or friends meet up to be able to leave my goddamn house i just wanted to go and have a fun day and get me some books thats it.

anyway so initially the plan was that my mom would go along but something came up so she wanted to postpone it to 21st and i didn't want to bcz i'd already be missing 3 days bcz of my boyfriends birthday, holi and my brothers birthday (all of which are important and i dont want to miss which makes me the villain apparently bcz i should "adjust" and cancel my "parties" instead of trying to stick to my plan bcz that makes me too demanding and selfish apparently) so i suggested that ukw why dont u go do ur thing which came up and i'll go to college street by myself...which is when the solo date idea came which i had really wanted all along but didnt bring up bcz i knew she'd say no but now there's a valid reason for me to go alone so like, its a pretty easy fix i can just go alone but noooo. First of all,

I've been to college street multiple times before so its not like its an unknown area to me

im going by metro which is quite safe

im going when there is stark daylight and i will return home much much before it gets dark and im literally 18

she never lets me go anywhere alone, not even take ubers alone if i want to get back from somewhere my bf has to come drop me everytime and then go backwards to his house which is so so so stupid and i never get to go out alone unless accompanied by family or by a male friend, so obv when i said i'll go to college street alone she refused to let that happen and started screaming about how 'if its so important to go on 20th bcz u dont want to miss a day of studying then cancel ur 'parties' and study then' and i was like no its not about missing a day its just that there's a very easy and logical fix to this problem which is i go alone and its not inconveniencing anyone so why cant i just do that but she will not listen to that bcz im 'adamant' and 'everything has to be according to me' bcz i found a viable solution to the problem. so instead of letting me just go she was literally ready to pay much more money and buy the books online, like.....why cant i just go bro??? (and she keeps telling me im a waste of her money bcz i will amount to nothing in life and my education was a failed investment or wtv so like now why are u wasting more money??? im literally trying to save the money that u 'waste' on me so just let me ???)

anyway i called my dad last night and told him and he was super ok with the idea he said its a good idea that i go alone and that he would speak to her but then today when i asked her if dad spoke to her she said yes, we'll go on 20th and i was like .....we? so apparently she CANCELLED her previously immovable thing for which she wanted me to cancel my 'parties', she cancelled that and agreed to go with me on 20th just so that i dont get to go alone- like ???????????????? what is ur problemmmm

so obv i was super annoyed and i went on a whole ass rant about how i literally struggle to even cross roads bcz i dont know shit about basic travelling bcz all my life ive been in a car and its a running joke with all my guy friends that i 'cannot navigate' and 'dont know any places' and obv??? if im never allowed to go anywhere then how tf will i know the places- the only places i know is bcz recently i've been paying a lot of attention and asking my dad stuff about what roads to take to reach certain places and when i go out with my friends i kind of try and learn a bit but thats it i've only ever gone alone completely alone to two places which is my beauty parlour thats 5 minutes away from my house and one bazaar one time that was 2 bus stops away, thats it. thats my extent of public travelling alone. and now im supposed to go to a whole new STATE for college and i cant even call myself an auto without struggling. and like- is this not a basic life skill??? like ok yeah its not rocket science and i will probably figure it out even if i start later in life but why not now? most of my guy friends literally go everywhere alone, why not me? and my dad agreed with all of this but my mom was just like "you'll be in the hostel only, no need to go out of the campus" like ARE YOU FOR REAL????????? and she's like "if u want to learn skills learn how to cook" like ok yes i will also learn how to cook for sure but i wont have a fucking kitchen in the hostel but somehow cooking is an urgent skill i should learn but going places by myself is unimportant bcz i should just never? leave? the? hostel?

anyway after much screaming and shouting my dad gave up and just cut the call bcz he doesnt want to get into an argument with my mother and my mother was being all suspicious like why do u hAvE tO gO aLoNe AlL oF a SuDdEn even though i literally explained why i want to do this alone but she doesnt think thats valid. so she refuses to let me go and i asked her for one reason why i shouldnt cz usuallt its always "no u have exam what if smthn happens" but now i literally dont even have exam so whats ur excuse now? streets will always be unsafe forever so "what if smthn happens" is not a reason to never let me go out without a man so just gimme one reason and she couldnt give me a single reason she just said "i said no, thats it".

and now she's gone off about how im useless and blah blah and "high maintainance" bcz i want books and "everyone else (some pishi's son) just studies online" and so the whole option of college street is apparently now cancelled and she's trying to set up a whole ass kindle account (half the books i need arent even available as ebooks) just because i wanted to go by myself.

#in our house kids dont stay outside past 6:30pm'' but now all of a sudden its fine for my brother to play #till 10:30 at night #she literally stopped me permanently from going down in the evenings since i was in class 7-8 #this is why ive never had any friends outside of school bcz she wouldnt let me leave ths fucking house #and now that my brother is in class 7 #he's allowed to be out playing with his friends till 10 freaking 30 #he comes home an hour late sometimes...45 minutes and almost always at least 30 minutes late at NIGHT and she says nothing except like #one sentence #yeah im only the villain i only keep u locke #up in the house its all my fault #this is just so damn unfair #like literally insulting #im not a child what is her problem #what sort of fucking solution is 'never leave the hostel' like ok even if i do that what happens then??? after i graduate?#i'll be a 24 year old who doesnt know shit about going from one place to another without a man present]#and then this woman preaches how she 'always raises her son and daughter equally' like srsly shut the fuck up #my whole life i've been told abar late?''#and for me bcz i would come home 5-10 minutes late nd i did it maybe once or twice she made me completely stop going down to play #5-10 minutes late from 6:30 wherein he comes an hour late from 9 fucking 30 #and this sounds so stupid bcz im an 18 year old now and i dont give a fuck abt how long i got to play but its just unfair dude #with me it was always smthn or the other either exams or she gets miraculously sick every time i want to go out to play #im not even kidding she did a whole “i have fever and ur going to leave me like this and go play?” on me one time bcz i was adamant abt goi #after months of not being able to go bcz of exam or smthn or the other #she did not have any fever it was fucking bullshit #and how am i supposed to help with ur imaginary fever anyway im literally 12 #its so fucking annoying man and then if i say anything at all she'll go on a tirade about how #like YOU DO THOUGH??????? im sorry ur feelings are hurt bcz i said you do smthn that u LITERALLY DO #istg not even 2 days ago she was having a fight with my dad abt how he should teach my brother to learn how to cycle so that he can go buy #groceries #i can cycle

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ode2rin · 2 months

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SAY YES TO ME ~ ❀ ·˚

𓆩♡𓆪 in which: your husband, reo, just knows exactly how to make you say yes.

For the first time in his life, Reo had never been happier to be the CEO of his company.

He couldn't recall feeling as alive even when he first inherited the position. While he appreciated the benefits and authority, nothing compared to the freedom of controlling his own time.

As soon as the clock struck 12 pm, Reo sprang to his feet, driven by a sense of purpose akin to a man on a mission. His determined strides echoed against the perfectly marbled tiles of his office floor as he made his way to the elevator. It was five hours earlier than his usual clock-out time, but today was an exception.

Because today was Valentine’s Day— and he had better plans than sitting around skimming through papers that hardly made any sense anymore because his mind was already consumed with thoughts of you, as if he didn’t spend most of his time doing exactly that anyway.

Before finally leaving his office floor, Reo made a beeline for his secretary’s desk to ensure the finishing touches were being made according to his instructions.

“Everything must be ready before we arrive,” he declared to his secretary, his tone more of a command than a request. This was serious business, after all. In fact, none of the investor deals he signed earlier this day would measure up to the importance of this one task at hand.

“Yes, sir,” his secretary replied cautiously.

Satisfied, he stepped into the elevator. His eagerness to see you was so evident— anyone can tell. He wasn’t hiding it, not even trying one bit to do so. From the way he pressed the lobby button twice, checked his watch incessantly for the past few hours, and tapped his wingtip against the elevator floor as if its speed could hasten his journey home— everyone can tell that his very own company building was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

Well, he supposed anyone with someone precious waiting for them at home would understand his seemingly pathetic behavior.

Pathetic, lovesick, whipped— you’ve reduced him to every synonym for such.

Not that it concerns him; what's more concerning is that he's not bothered by any perception tied to it. If he hadn't outgrown that teenage angst and was still chasing bits to fuel his ego, then it would have been a different story. He would have been hypersensitive to what bystanders thought of him. Now, older and wiser, he couldn’t care less about what they meant to prying eyes or big tabloids. None of their opinions were yours, so none of them mattered.

The journey back home was tenfold more insufferable than the time spent in the elevator. He kept his eye on his chauffeur in the rear-view mirror, and if he squinted enough, he could see the beads of nervous sweat forming at the poor man’s temple. He sighed to himself, seemingly reprimanding his own improper behavior. Hell, what was happening to him? He wasn't even an impatient man to begin with. All because of Valentine’s Day—all because he couldn’t wait to see you.

He got it real bad, as his longtime best friend would like to say. One he couldn't find it in himself to deny. It was true, anyway.

He didn't know when or where it started, but one random night four years ago, he woke up in a cold sweat, and the realization that he was hell deep in love with you gnawed on his center to his throat. So in love it set his heart on fire, all while being in love with the one person who lit the match.

Rumors were true— love never aligned with logic, intricate planning, none of what he excelled at as a businessman. And so, he abandoned logic and acted exactly as his heart had been urging him to.

The very moment the sun peeked over the horizon that fateful day, he was on his feet, his jet waiting to fly him to wherever the finest diamond engagement rings reside.

It was the best decision he had ever made in his life because if he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t be standing at the entrance of your shared home, his grin widening with each approaching step he hears. You’re bustling around the house just to welcome him home—so, no, he couldn’t have it any other way. The mere thought of doing things differently made his heart leap into his throat, while a hollow feeling settled in his chest.

“Love! Welcome home!” you greet him, your lively voice warming Reo’s heart as it makes its way to him.

Even before you could throw your arms around his shoulders and kiss him senselessly to welcome him home, you're met with a bundle of red roses he had taken from his back.

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” you blushed, resembling the vibrant flowers he bought on the way home.

“Nothing is ever a bother when it comes to you,” he mused, big amethyst eyes sparkling back at you.

Ever the sweet talker, you looked at your husband who was now peering over you and the roses you’re cradling.

“Okay, Mr. Charming. To what occasion do I owe this?” you play pretend, your voice tinged with playful curiosity.

Instead of an immediate response, you felt his hands traveling to the small of your back, pulling you close against his embrace. His lips grazed your cheek, before whispering in your ear, “Be my Valentine?”

Here he goes again, you thought. “I’ve been married to you for the last four years, if I remember correctly,” you pointed out to him, keeping your smile to yourself.

That’s not a yes. Huffing, Reo pulled back from your hug to look you in the eye, “Your point being? There are no rules in marriage that say I can no longer ask you on Valentine’s day– if I remember correctly,” and he even had the pettiness to mock your tone.

“Wow, my husband is a bit sassy today, isn’t he?”

My husband, he repeats in his mind, and just like that, all sassiness and pettiness came flying straight out of the window. “I love being your husband,” he blurted out, totally unrelated to your previous banter.

“Oh, really, now?” you teased, feigning the warmth it sent to your chest.

He does, truly and definitely. A man like him is widely known for what he has– for the possessions under his name and for the power it holds. Yet here he was, wrapped around your arms, and suddenly, being your husband has been the best he has been called and known for.

There was no weight, no expectations, and no pressure tied to it— just love dripping in every letter. There’s no one he would rather be.

“Yeah, am I doing a great job?” smiling at you, he asks, “I’m not losing the charms, am I?”

“Trust me, you’re very much good at it,” you fondly brushed the strands of hair covering his eyes, “and you’re not losing the charms,” you quoted.

“Really? So if I were to ask again, would you say yes?”

“With or without your ‘charms’, you know exactly how to make me say yes.”

Reo let out a hearty laugh at your remark. “You’re right,” his fingers reached out to your left ring finger, where his oath of forever lay glimmering.

God— he really did that. He put a ring on it. It was his name next to yours, his rings on your hand, his bed you share, and his forever you spend with. Four years and more to come, but Reo was certain he would never get over it.

Before his rationality left him and wrecked his own plans, Reo caressed your back, his hands moving dangerously low down your hip and giving it a squeeze, “Still wanna hear it from you though,” he mumbled softly against your lips, “So, what do you say in letting this poor man take you on a date as his valentine?”

You drew closer to his hold, your arms finding their place around his neck, hands occupied with the flowers now resting on his back, “I say,” you pressed your lips as if trying to think, “I’d like some kiss and maybe hear a please first—”

You couldn’t even finish teasing him because in a heartbeat, Reo closed the distance, seizing your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss drowning out the sound of words with an intensity that left no room for second guessing his invitation. Nothing about Mikage Reo was silent and subtle– not even when he kissed you. It had to be breathless, deep, urgent, and parting your lips in surrender.

His hands found their way, trailing with purpose along your spine, while his other traced the curve of your jaw with a feather-light touch. Teasing fingers then tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, desperate for more.

He pulled back first, leaving you light-headed. He flashed you one smirk, lips almost melting into yours.

“Please?”

Fuck. You didn’t need to be asked thrice. You nodded your head aimlessly, earning a chuckle from him. “Go then, pack some clothes. Our jet is waiting for us.”

“Jet? Did you mean car?” Where the hell was he taking you to use a jet for?

Seemingly reading the question on your face, he answered, “I know what I said, love. We’re going to Paris.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, squirming from his hold completely, “We could just dine somewhere close, Reo.”

Now, who told you he only had dinner in mind? Who did you take him for? You shouldn’t be surprised anymore— there’s nothing in this world that would come close to the satisfaction he got from spending lavishly on you. It was a reminder that he could and most certainly would give you everything you wanted. “You don’t like Paris?”

You tried to reason, heavy on the try so it seemed because you soon realized it was a mistake clarifying your point, “I mean, I do but—”

“I think I heard enough, love,” a sheepish smile formed on his lips, “I’ll wait for you here, alright?”

You rolled your eyes at him before retreating to your shared bedroom to prepare for freaking Paris. Of course, you're going. There’s really no winning against him, you’ve known that ever since. He longed to prove to you that he always had the irresistible charm of making you say yes.

Not that you'd ever thought of saying no. The ring weighing your finger down could attest to that.

note. been seeing people saying their partners no longer ask them valentines bec they're tgt alr... reo would never do that btw do better

another note (pls tolerate me). i'm pretty sure i'm fighting for my life when this gets posted (it's qd!!) so here's me wishing all of you a happy hearts day 🩷

#💌 valentine's special '24 #mikage reo #reo mikage #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #mikage reo fluff #mikage reo x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff

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kvtie444 · 5 months

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⋆‧₊˚ TEACHERS PET

A/N: ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18!! gonna try make this a series lol p.s. I love covet sm lolziezzzzzzzz

Summary: Reader has a new teacher and finds herself falling for him blahblahblah teachers pet by melanie vibes xoxo

Warnings: swearing, mentions of nsfw content, that’s it??

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

If you're fortunate enough to own a car, count your blessings. Given the means, I would have purchased one long ago, but the weight of tuition fees compels me to endure a daily mile-long walk in the unforgiving cold almost every day. Oddly enough, the journey to campus carries its qualities - passing through a park, surrounded by pleasant scenery, with my favourite playlist playing through my headphones, it becomes an almost comforting routine - except on days like today, where I’m running late.

Choosing sociology ranks among the biggest mistakes in my life, closely followed by my track record with every guy I've been involved with. It seems every guy my age is solely fixated on getting their dick sucked and seeking validation from their male peers.

Entering my building, I head straight to class, mentally preparing myself for boredom. Amongst my whole class, I've only really gotten close with one person in my class - Madi. She's friendly, and her accom building is conveniently across mine, making her my go-to companion here. Reaching my relatively small class, I push the door open, taking my seat beside Madi. Placing my bag on the desk. I unpack my belongings, removing my headphones and setting them on the table. "Look who's finally arrived," Madi teases with a smile. Glancing at her and then towards the front of the room, I notice the absence of the teacher. Did I really beat him here? "Where's Mr. Kennedy?" I ask, confusion etched on my face. Her expression falters. "Didn't you hear?" she begins. I shake my head no. "He got caught having an affair with a student," she whispers. My jaw drops. "So, who's filling in for him?" I ask. She simply shrugs.

Engaging in small talk whilst I log onto my laptop, her attention shifts to the door as our new teacher arrives, a solid 12 minutes late. I keep my eyes glued to my screen as I overhear him grabbing items from his desk. I momentarily look away and I almost moan when I see him. Brown hair, blue eyes, a slight beard, a chain sitting on top of his black sweatshirt, and plain black pants - he doesn't look a day older than 30. Picking up a marker from his desk and delicately fiddling with the lid, he looks up to face the class.

"Mr. Kennedy is unable to continue teaching you guys, so I'll be filling in for him," he announces, turning around to write his name on the board alongside the topic where we left off. "My name is Mr. Sturniolo, or just Matthew if you can't pronounce it," he half-jokes, a small chuckle escaping from his pink lips. Madi leans toward me, whispering in my ear, "smash." I can't help but chuckle, nudging her with my shoulder. When Matt turns around, his eyes dart into mine, shooting me a disciplinary look. I purse my lips, attempting to contain my smile, and look down, mouthing a small "sorry." He returns to his desk, flicks open his textbook, lands on a page, and then speaks up, "Everyone, go to page 56. We're going to start off where you were all left off with class differences in achievement”.

Throughout the lesson, he does an impressive job at teaching. He even sets up a Google Classroom for all his work and provides a platform for questions if we're confused—something Kennedy could never manage. Matt sends me a few glances, and each time, my face grows hot, causing me to look away first and break the eye contact. Eventually, the lesson concludes, and everyone quickly packs up, ready to leave.

"Alright, everyone, I want you all to finish off the chapter, make notes, and I'm going to upload a short essay question for you to fill out too. I want it done for tomorrow's lesson," he says, people beginning to exit the room, with me and Madi following suit. As I walk out the door, I glance back at him, and our eyes meet. He shoots me a smile, which I quickly return before looking and walking out of the room.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

I let out a frustrated groan, slouching back in my chair and running my hands down my face. I find myself back in my dorm, attempting to tackle this essay, but I’m stuck on my counterargument. I glance at my open laptop, its glow being the only source of light in my room as I anxiously tap my pen against my desk. Why am I so hesitant to ask my teacher for help? Y/n, don't bother him; it's 11 pm. fuck it.

Summoning a bit of courage, I lean forward and compose a message for him, meant for our eyes only. "Hello Mr. Sturniolo, I was wondering how to counterargue in the essay you assigned. Best regards, Y/n." No, no, no. I delete the message and retype, reminding myself that I'm not messaging fucking royalty. The new message reads, "Hi Matt, I'm a bit unsure of how to counterargue in the essay. Thanks, Y/n." I bite my lip before hitting send and then pick up my pen, drumming it against my desk again. I can't help but keep checking if he replies. It's only been two minutes. I mean, it's late. I keep my eyes glued to my screen eagerly until I see my 'delivered' message switch to 'read.' My breath hitches as my left leg shakes, my heel tapping the ground in quick patterns as I see three typing dots.

"Hey Y/n, don't worry about it. Try using the functionalist perspective and theorists like Parsons. I'll send you the page now. Matt." I smile at the message and feel like a cheesy teenage girl, my breath hitching when he sends an image. It's a page from the textbook which he is holding down with his left hand. shit. His large hand looked veiny, and his fingers took up so much space. He had rings on his fingers, excluding his ring and middle finger, making me bite my lip, almost prompting a moan at the idea. No, Y/n, he's your teacher. My eyes moved up his arm to catch a glimpse of the tattoos that were previously hidden under his sweatshirt. I wasn't even focusing on my work anymore. I snap out of my daze and type a little message, hoping to keep the conversation going. "Thank you !!" I send, now biting the end of my pen, smiling to myself. He's quick to start typing back, "Don't worry about it." I stare at the message until my breath hitches once I see him typing again. "Next time, try not to leave my work for the last minute." I softly giggle to myself, looking down at my hands.

I finally get the work done, submitting it online. I climb into bed and scroll through my phone until I fall asleep, feeling a sense of anticipation and excitement about seeing Matt again tomorrow.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Back in class again, I find myself barely able to focus on anything - well, it wasn't even work. Matt had put on some documentary, but my attention was solely fixed on him. What's wrong with me? He's just a good-looking guy, Y/n. A really, really good-looking guy.

"Y/n?" I'm snapped out of my trance by Madi. I look up at her; she's standing up, bag on her shoulder. "Lesson's over. Wanna meet and get some food later?"

I nod, "Yeah, text me," I reply, smiling as I get up and put my headphones back on, playing my music. I walk towards the door until I feel a hand on my arm, turning me around. Confused, I look up, and my confusion softens, feeling my face heat up upon seeing it's Matt. I pull my headphones down around my neck as he smiles at me.

"I was calling your name a few times, but your music's too loud," he chuckles. I giggle back at him, feeling flustered. His eyebrows furrow, and a smirk grows on his face. "Is that 'Covet'? Basement?" he continues, referring to the song from my headphones. I look down at my headphones before looking back up at him, smiling, nodding my head, "Yeah,". This man could not get any more perfect. He bites his lip slightly before leaning against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Am I in trouble?" I ask, my brows knitting together in worry. "Hm? Oh, no, no," he shakes his head. "Just have to hold you behind a bit and ask you something," he continues.

Shit.

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #imagine #angst #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #smut #SoundCloud

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kinkandkreep · 11 months

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𝑫𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒚: 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 1

♡︎ 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓!𝑴𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝑶'𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

♡︎ 𝑪𝑾: 𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒖𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔

♡︎ "__" 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆

♡︎ 𝑻𝒂𝒈 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕: @pinkrose1422 @freeingrebels @lollipoppersposts

♡︎ 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 2 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 3 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 4 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆

He never forgets.

You sighed, tired and frustrated with this cliche ass situation you found yourself in.

Like every Lifetime movie gone wrong, here you sat in the kitchen of your home, previously lit candles now extinguished, lovingly cooked meal gone cold on the table before you.

It was you and Miguel’s third anniversary. And, unfortunately, it seemed he had forgotten.

He’s not here.

Initially, when you realized just how late it was getting, you tried to be sensible about what could possibly have happened. A part of you even started to panic, given that you hadn’t heard from him and when you’d spoken to him last, he’d been preparing to go do his usual patrols and surveillance of the city.

You worried that perhaps he’d gotten hurt, or worse.

But then you remembered who you were talking about and that worry quickly diminished.

Miguel wasn’t invincible but he was damn close, and the usual thugs he encountered were no match for him and his determination backed super strength.

Sighing a breath of relief, you then contemplated the remaining possibilities.

‘Maybe it’s a work thing, he’s spent plenty of late nights there or in the lab before.’

Your mind seemed most comfortable with this speculation, and so you released the issue, instead focusing on maintaining a positive attitude for when Miguel eventually arrived.

Except that nine became ten, ten became eleven, eleven became midnight and you realized with a heavy heart that your husband had indeed forgotten your anniversary.

Glancing at the clock, and seeing that it read 12:22, you stood from the dining room table, beginning the process of cleaning up and packing away the leftover food and needlessly dirtied dishes.

You would wash them later on in the day.

Once that was finished, you began making your way to your bedroom, removing your jewelry and heels along the way. Entering the room, you put everything back in its proper place, slipping out of your dress and putting on a more comfortable pajama set.

You momentarily considered putting on one of Miguel’s shirts for comfort, but rather quickly abandoned the idea.

You were preparing to slip under the covers when you heard the telltale beeping from the front door. It opened a little more noisily than was probably appropriate given the time of night it was, but it closed much more softly.

You didn’t immediately hear any footsteps sound, which struck you as a little odd, so against your better judgement, you called out a soft, “Gigi?”

Almost immediately after, you could hear rustling and the beginning of steps up the stairs. After a few seconds, your bedroom door began to creep open, and a dull red eye peeked through the gap.

For whatever reason, Miguel stayed that way for some moments, and it was beginning to creep you out. Thankfully, he eventually eased the door open the rest of the way, and slipped into the room.

You could see he held a large bouquet of many different kinds of flowers. From what you could make out, there were blue hyacinths, Lily of the Valley, pink roses and white orchids.

All different flowers meant to convey the same message.

“I’m sorry.”

Miguel’s voice was low, and a tad raspier than it normally was. You couldn’t tell if it was because he was tired or what, but alarm bells sounded in your brain nevertheless.

Which was…strange.

Miguel wouldn’t make eye contact with you, instead staring down at the flowers he appeared to be subconsciously clutching tightly against his chest.

“I know, Miguel. So am I.”

His head shot up at that, and he leveled you with a quizzical stare.

“What?”

You lifted a hand, gesturing for the flowers and to your en suite.

“You’re sorry you forgot and so am I. Now please, it’s late, I’m very tired and I would appreciate it if you would just get cleaned up so we could go to bed.”

He continued to stare at you confusedly, even as he inched forward to offer you the flowers. Standing still momentarily, he placed a tentative kiss on your forehead, missing the way you rolled your eyes.

Pulling away, he turns and heads into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself. You hear some rustling, and a few moments later, you hear the water begin to run.

Sighing, you take a seat on the bed, throat tightening as you feel tears threaten to spill. Though it’s only been a short time, and though you’ll never cease to feel silly for it, you’ve come to a conclusion.

‘Miguel’s having an affair.’

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

It takes around 30 minutes, but by the time Miguel’s finished, you’ve already drifted off into an uneasy, dreamless slumber.

Miguel emerges from the bathroom clad in only a towel that hangs loosely around his waist. Upon noticing that you’re apparently asleep, he tries to be more quiet as he maneuvers around your bedroom, opening and closing drawers much more softly than he normally would.

As he moves, his mind reels.

‘She seemed pissed. And worse than that, she seemed fed up. Could-...does she know?’

Almost immediately, Miguel shakes the thought from his mind.

‘No, she doesn’t. She can’t.’

Miguel refuses to think about the possibility anymore, and refuses to acknowledge the thoughts as they race through his mind all the way up until he falls asleep.

And that includes pointedly ignoring the dried tear streaks decorating your cheeks.

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

When you awake, you’re surprised to find Miguel still in bed with you.

A quick glance at the clock tells you that it’s almost 10:30, much later than either of you would normally ever stay in bed, but especially your husband, who’s been an early riser for as long as you’ve known him.

You look over to him, and watch the slow, steady rise and fall of his bare chest as he continues sleeping.

Even as exhausted as you are, you can’t deny that your husband is gorgeous. From his chiseled cheeks and sharp jaw, to the tussle of chestnut hair sitting atop his head and his plump, perpetually pouting lips, you couldn’t help but stare in awe at the beauty of the man before you.

You wonder what’s got him so tired.

‘Probably entertaining that bitch.’

The bitter thought sears a jagged line through your consciousness, causing your face to unwittingly curl up into an angry snarl.

You have half a mind to suffocate the sleeping bastard with your pillow, but the thought is interrupted as he begins stirring awake.

Miguel is mumbling something unintelligible as he smacks his lips, grimacing as he begins to stretch and yawn. The popping sound his back makes is sharp, and he sighs, relaxing back into the bed.

Finally, he opens his eyes, red orbs searching around the room until they land on you.

A pleasant smile lifts the corners of his mouth upward, and he opens his mouth to greet you.

“Buenos dias, mi corazón. Did you sleep well?”

You’re unable to stop the scoffing noise that makes its way out of your throat. He has quite the gall, lilting such pleasantries after he forgot about your anniversary and tried to apologize with a shitty bouquet of flowers. Now he wants to pretend that everything is just alright?

You’re becoming so angry you’ve started to shake, and upon noticing this and your expression, which has morphed into a searing glare, Miguel frowns, sitting up quickly and moving to put a hand on your thigh, which you quickly swat away.

“Cariño? What’s the matter?”

You continue to glare at your husband for a few seconds more, before silently standing from the bed and quickly making your way downstairs.

“__!” Miguel calls after you, but you refuse to answer.

You can soon hear him shuffling out of the bed and making his way down the stairs after you, but you don’t care. Sure, you’ve got your speculations about what could possibly have caused your husband to forget your anniversary, but you want more solid proof before you lash out.

Taking a couple deep breaths, you brace yourself on the kitchen counter, turning just in time to see Miguel reach the bottom step.

He watches you with a worried expression, lips pouted and soft eyes wide.

“__? Are you ok? You were shaking a minute ago.”

He approaches you tentatively, almost as if he can sense the inner turmoil within you and knows that it’s because of him.

You simply watch him as he comes closer, trying to keep your breathing and your mouth in check.

“Baby?”

Taking one last deep breath, you push yourself up from the counter, moving over to the refrigerator and opening its door, absently rummaging through its contents to find something to eat.

Behind you, you can hear Miguel sigh, and after a moment you feel his presence beside you.

“__, if something’s wrong, you know you can tell me right? I’m right here for you.”

On reflex, you slam the refrigerator door shut, a pitcher of orange juice clutched tightly in your hand. You speedily sit it on the countertop, trying again to get your breathing in check.

“__, this isn’t funny. The silent treat-...”

“Where were you last night, Miguel?”

You spin quickly, now facing your husband, who appears stunned. His eyes are wide, but this time you can find a trace of desperation and something that looks suspiciously like fear lurking within their bloodred depths.

“W-...I-I was at the lab.”

“And where else?”

You’re slightly surprised by how firm your voice sounds. You’re also able to maintain steady eye contact with your husband, who looks increasingly uncomfortable by the second.

“Doing patrols. Got into a scuffle with a couple criminals. Look __, if…if this is about me missing our anniversary I’m really-”

“You’re sorry, I know Miguel.” Your smile is sardonic, and you once again turn your back to your husband, beginning to pour yourself a glass of juice and taking a small sip.

“You could have at least called.” You speak, and you can see Miguel perk up out of your periphery, but then deflate again at your words.

“You’re right. I-...I’m sorry.”

It’s silent between you for a few moments, nothing but the sound of the birds chirping and your quiet sips can be heard.

Your glass is finished by the time either of you speaks again, and you work to pour yourself another.

“Tell me Gigi.” The man really brightens at the sound of his special nickname. It’s short lived however, because of the words that follow.

“If you had to choose between saving me, and saving everyone else, which would you choose?” You manage to keep your expression flat, and the air around you both seemingly stills as Miguel’s breath audibly hitches.

“I-...” His mouth opens then closes, and he seems to flounder for a satisfactory answer.

“I would…would save you both, of course.” You’ve never really known your husband to stutter so much before.

“That isn’t one of the options I gave you. I said you had to choose between us. So, choose.”

The silence returns, much heavier this time. It lingers for many seconds, and by the tenth you know he’s already chosen his answer.

“You know I can’t do that __.”

The glass you're holding cracks as it hits the marble of your countertop.

“Why the fuck not Miguel?! Why can’t you choose me over everything else for fucking once?!” You’ve spun around to face him once more, one hand perched on your hip. Your eyes have widened with anger, brows deeply furrowed and breath heavy.

Miguel sighs, shaking his head.

“We’ve had this conversation before, __. I have a responsibility. You said you understood!” You can sense Miguel becoming angry himself, which only serves to make you more livid.

“I am your wife, Miguel. The supposed “love of your life,” remember. There ought not be this turmoil about prioritising me. You couldn’t even be there for our anniversary. I don’t ask for much from you, ever. Never have. I just ask that when the time comes, you would show up, like you promised.”

Now you’ve gotten up in his face, expression still severe. He watches you with pinched brows, jaw set tight.

“I was there, Miguel. All those nights, patching you up and scolding you for being a reckless idiot. I was there, comforting you when you failed to save someone, reassuring you when you were losing hope. I’m not saying you ought to choose me out of obligation, but out of love. The same love that I’ve given you unconditionally, the same love that I want returned.”

You stare each other down for nearly a minute, you searching Miguel’s eyes for any sense of understanding.

You find little.

“You’re right, __. You were right there, all those times I made mistakes and had to rectify them. You were my backbone, my support when I had none. But you were also there when I explained how serious this responsibility is to me, and not just to me, but for everyone. You know how selfish I used to be, and I refuse to let my selfishness cost people their lives.”

You scoff out a laugh at his words, unbelieving in the moment that he’s actually being serious.

“So let me get this straight Miguel. You want me to understand that if it came down to it, you would sacrifice me for innumerable other random people, all because it’s your “responsibility”?” You use air quotes, your expression slightly mocking as you stare up at the larger man.

He frowns, breathing once heavily through his nose.

“I want you to be less selfish, __. I thought you understood that when the time came, I would do what needed to be done.”

“Of course I don’t fucking understand that! You said you loved me! I’m supposed to believe you would give up someone you love for a bunch of people you don’t?!” You’re exasperated now, and can feel the tears beginning to build up in your eyes.

Why can’t Miguel seem to look past his “duty” and see what’s right in front of him? Is he…is he trying to push you away?

‘He’s pushing you away so he can feel less bad about pursuing that tramp.’

The thought leaves a shiver down your spine, and you can feel red hot anger bloom as heat all over your body.

“That’s precisely what it means to be a hero, __!” The color in Miguel’s eyes has begun to swirl with his building anger.

“No, Miguel. Sacrificing the people you love for people who wouldn’t even know to appreciate the gesture isn’t heroism.” You look him in the eyes, leaning up close until your noses nearly brush. “It’s foolishness. And it seems you’re the biggest fool of them all.”

Miguel’s eyes widen, the crimson of them shooting scarlet. His breathing immediately picks up, and his hands begin rhythmically clenching by his sides.

“Y-...you-...”

Without finishing his sentence, Miguel turns on his heel and storms up the stairs to the second floor, slamming your bedroom door.

You wait a few moments, before collapsing into a dining chair, hands in your face as you quietly sob.

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

You’ve since stopped crying and began making lunch when you hear Miguel stomping down to the first floor. You turn to watch him, who has since become fully clothed, as he heads to the entryway, slipping on his jacket.

“Where are you going,” you call out, averting your eyes for just a moment from the sizzling pan in front of you.

“To the lab,” your husband replies without looking up from slipping on his shoes.

“Why? It’s,” you glance up at the clock, “12 o’clock and you haven’t eaten.”

“It’s fine, I’ll find something myself.” Miguel’s words are curt, his tone clipped.

You contemplate pressing the matter, but decide against it, figuring if Miguel wants to run away like a petty child, then that’s exactly what you’ll let him do.

You hear the door slam, and it makes you only slightly flinch.

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

You don’t see Miguel for the rest of the day.

You’ve cooked, ate, straightened up, showered and spent the majority of the day passing time scrolling through social media and catching up on shows and movies you’ve wanted to see.

It’s 9:30, and you’re in the middle of a yawn when the first message comes.

It’s from an unknown sender, and it’s a zip file.

You’re very hesitant to open it at first, becoming immediately afraid that someone is on some weird shit.

But then, an actual text message follows.

And your hand shakes as you read it.

‘You could never understand, __, not like I do.’

Heart pounding, you’ve now been given the motivation you need to open the compressed file.

You very quickly wish you hadn’t.

Inside are dozens of photos, all of Miguel and another woman in…compromising positions, to say the absolute least.

They’re in different states of undress in each photo, the last few even featuring them in what appears to be post coital bliss.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the screen, your absolute worst fears having been realized.

Finally, you reach the end of the content in the file, and to your further horror, it’s a short 10 second clip.

Against your better judgement, you click it.

Immediately, your ears are assaulted with the high pitched moans of the woman in the photos, Miguel’s much deeper swears and grunts audible in the background. It seems the camera’s been positioned at an odd angle, almost as if it’s meant to be hidden.

From wherever it is, you can see both the woman and Miguel in all their naked glory, bodies moving rhythmically against each other.

You only realize you’re crying because your view of the screen becomes blurry.

Your mouth is agape, and you're finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Before you can throw the phone away, one last message comes in.

It’s a screenshot of messages appearing to have been sent between Miguel and the woman.

You can’t read much of it, your stomach won’t allow you, but from what little you are able to read, Miguel appears to be complaining about you to the other woman, who agrees and encourages everything he says.

You’ve had enough, and you click your phone off, leaning back on the couch to process all you’ve just witnessed.

‘Miguel is cheating on me. Miguel slept with another woman. Miguel thinks I’m a nuisance. Miguel, Miguel, Miguel…’

You pause, clicking off the television and standing slowly, grabbing your phone and making your way upstairs to the bathroom.

Without a single utterance of sound, you shower and run through your oral hygiene routine, picking out a fresh set of pajamas and climbing into bed.

You find yourself unable to sleep, so afraid you are that your dreams will be filled with visions of your husband’s infidelity.

He doesn’t come home that night.

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

Buy me a Kofi?

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 #cheater miguel o'hara #cheater miguel o'hara x reader #tw: cheating #cw cheating

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wosoamazing · 1 month

Text

Too Late To Be Fair

Warnings: death (caused by drunk driver), mentions of emotional abuse (R as a child), mentions of drinking and drunks, implications of self doubt and associated things, wishing someone would die. Please let me know if anything else.

Note: Grace is a fake player, due to previous ideas and maybe future ideas I had to make a player up... she does some things none of the girls would ever do....

A/N: Story inspired by Pray (Jessie Murph) & Mansion (NF) - and other things but I listened to these songs and I was like ooo good story idea. There probs will be a part 2. I hope you like it - also I know I said one of the McFoord fics would be out next but um yeah...

“Y/N We’re sorry to inform you but your Dad was in a car accident he was hit by a drunk driver” you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony, you dad the drunk being hit by a drunk driver. Everyone looked at you in disbelief.

“Y/N that’s not very appropriate,” Grace said, before others death stared her, clearly not knowing your situation, of course you were going to blow, especially at her, the thing you had wished for, for so long, finally happened, yet just after you cut him off, so it didn’t matter, it didn’t mean you could have an easier childhood, it was just another way of the universe punishing you. Waiting until you had moved out, cut your ties and in the spotlight, to finally kill him. Almost exactly a year since you cut him off, won the trial, got the restraining order, the one which he protested, causing the gruelling 3 day trial, to decide whether it was needed or not.

“Oh, sorry we don’t all have perfect little lives with perfect Mummies and Daddies, some of us actually had a shit childhood, faced real world problems, no rich bitch problems, oh Mummy and Daddy told me to pick up some rubbish, oh my life is shit they abuse me” you were dragged out of the locker room and into an empty physio room by Leah, Beth, Katie, Caitlin, and Steph who all sent you a glare when the door had shut, “Oh like she didn’t deserve it,” they all couldn’t but help let out a smile. There was an awkwardness in the room, as the girls all looked between each other not knowing how to approach this.

“You guys can all go, I’ve got this, thank you though,” Leah spoke, breaking the silence, everyone left except Beth, but Leah didn’t mind. You and Beth had a very close relationship, you had been close friends since your grassroots team, Beth helped you through the year of your life you realised you were gay, and then when you crushed on your now girlfriend, your then national Captain. Beth felt bad the year you told her about your Dad, she knew something was off but you never told anyone, barely anyone stills knows the full story, but that day Beth and you promised that you would be there for each other forever, and that was true, she had been there during your trial and so much more, and you were there for her when Dan broke up with her, Beth was really your rock and you were hers. Beth moved to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the room, giving you both space, whilst also being there in case you needed it.

“Are you okay?” Leah couldn't find the right words, but she knew deep down the wrong words were what you needed her to say, you weren’t going to break, and release it all otherwise.

“Of course I’m not fucking okay Leah,” you looked up at her, she hadn’t even flinch at your words, instead she pulled you in for a hug. Which caused hot angry tears to fall from your eyes “Why now, why couldn’t it have been a year ago, 3 years, hell any time after I was 12. It’s unfair, its fucking unfair,” you paused, and Leah slowly slid her back down against the wall, bringing you down with her, your legs either side of hers as you sat in her lap. Your eyes connected with her soft kind caring blue eyes, and you could see how her lips formed a soft kind reassuring smile. You broke, big fat tears streamed down your face, as you sobbed, Leah gently pulled your body forward, so you were no longer sitting up, but leaning on her, she placed your head into the crock of her neck, before moving her arm to wrap around you lower body, her other hand was placed on your back, her thumb moving up and down, as she whispered reassuring words in your ear.

“W-why now, when I’ve already lived the hard life, when I’ve been through all that shit. When I’m already screwed up, when I already have trust issues, when I already doubt myself everyday, so much so that I do it unconsciously” you sobbed into her neck.

“I know baby, it's not fair, and it's not right. But I’m here now, and I’ve got you.”

“I-I I used to wish he would die, I used to imagine cops showing up at the door when it was later than he used to come home, them telling me and me not being upset. I used to hope he just wouldn't come back from work trips. I used to imagine people asking me why I wasn’t upset when he died. I used to think of the fact that he was an alcoholic so he wouldn't get a kidney or liver transplant, unless it was a directed donation. I had to say yes, how could I say no if I was a match, but how could I say yes. You know how fucked up you feel when you think that stuff, you know how messed up I thought I was, but that was all his doing. It's just unfair.”

___

You had calmed back down and decided to go see all the girls again, the only problem was that no one had realised what song was playing in the locker room, too deep in conversation to be aware of it.

Waking up but wishing that you don’t. It’s something that I pray you’ll never know.

A song that connected with you so deeply sent you back over the edge, and you quickly spun on your feet and speed walked away, Beth followed behind you.

“What the actual fuck were you thinking McCabe” you girlfriend yelled.

“Wha?” the room had gone quiet and attention was drawn to the music, “Oh fuck, shit, sorry, we werent listening to it, its just automatically come on. I promise, I wasn't trying to be funny, I wouldn't do anything like that to Y/N”

Leah just turned around packing your bag and hers, “Tell Jonas we’re going home.”

“Sorry” Katie yelled as Leah went down the hall.

Leah found you sitting in the middle of one of the side hallways. Beth’s arms were wrapped around you and your body was shaking.

“Come on baby, let's go home.” She said as she placed a hand on your back, Beth slowly released her arms around you, which Leah quickly replaced with hers.

_____

“What’s on your mind? I know it's something more than your Dad” your girlfriend said as she sat down on the bed next to you, legs crossed and leaning back against the headboard. You had just arrived home.

“It's stupid.” you sighed, looking away from her eyes.

“I promise you, it's not stupid, it's your feelings, and your feelings are valid” she said, voice unwavering before pulling you into her lap.

“I don't know, I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” “What do you mean baby?” “I don't know, I just feel like something is going to happen, like something is going to happen and you’re going to realise that this was all a mistake and leave. You’re going to get sick of constantly being second guessed for no reason just because I’m messed up, because I don’t believe someone could actually love me this much. You’re going to get sick of me, and all my insecurities, ” she pulled your body into hers, your head finding a place in the crock of her neck, tears started to fall from your eyes, causing her neck to become wet.

“Y/N, baby, I love you so much, and I promise, there is not another shoe that will drop, we have been through so much together, we got through those 9 months together, we got through the trial together, and I promise we will get through whatever life throws at us together, forever, we will go through the highs and lows together. I love you so much, and I wouldn't want to spend my life with anyone else. I will never hurt you, I promise.”

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #awfc x reader #awfc #leah williamson x reader

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alessiasfreckles · 14 days

Text

amnesia - part 12 (ona batlle x alexia putellas x reader)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11

a/n: sorry for the long wait, not much left now!

--------

The next morning, when you looked on your doorstep, you half expected to find Alexia or Ona stood there waiting. Instead, you found the usual pastry and drink, and couldn’t help but feel the smallest tinge of disappointment.

You’d been messaging both girls late into the night, about everything and anything, except for what had happened between the three of you. You knew you’d need to talk about it at some point, but for now, you just wanted things to be good. And so did they, by the looks of things. Accompanying the pastry and drink was a handwritten note from Ona, reading ‘Good morning chiqui! We hope you have a wonderful day today. Dinner is on us tonight x’. Interesting.

As you headed to your physio session, you tried to ignore the rising anticipation in your belly, the soft feeling of hope working its way through your body, eager to see the two women, but nervous as well. You didn’t even know if you would see them - there was a good chance they’d be outside for training, or in the gym, and so far all of your sessions had been in the smaller physiotherapy rooms.

When you arrived, the physiotherapist greeted you with an amused smile.

“You have some admirers,” she noted, nodding towards a beautiful bouquet of flowers that was resting in a vase. You couldn’t help but blush, rolling your eyes fondly at the gesture, already knowing who was behind it. “Today we’re in the gym, but you can leave your things here and we can get them when we’re done.”

“The gym?” you asked, surprised.

The physiotherapist nodded. “Yes. You’re making very good progress - you really only have minimal injuries considering what you went through, and we can move you to the real gym now. You should be able to go back to training with the others soon, maybe in a month or so. The biggest problem is the muscle atrophy from being in the coma, but once we get your body back to where it was before, you’ll be good to go.”

Your mouth hung open in shock, and your face suddenly felt very warm as you realised that tears were gathering in the corners of your eyes. You hadn’t expected to be back so soon, and you couldn’t wait to be able to train with the others again, to get out there and play football, the thing you loved more than anything else in the world.

As you walked to the gym, you wondered whether the rest of the team would also be in the gym or if they’d be outside. As you got closer, your question was answered - you could hear various sounds coming from the gym, shoes against treadmills, the thud of weights hitting the ground, but also the soft murmur of your teammates chatting, the occasional peal of laughter. That meant Ona and Alexia were probably there, too.

You took a deep breath before pushing open the door, trying to steel your nerves. At first, when you walked through, no one batted an eyelid, all preoccupied with their own routines. But then Mapi looked up, and yelled out your name.

“You’re back!” she grinned, running over to you. You felt a twinge of guilt, remembering that the two of you had been good friends before the accident, and that you’d been so caught up in everything going on with Ona and Alexia that you’d forgotten about your friendships with the other players. Soon enough you were surrounded by your teammates, including the two you were most nervous about seeing.

“I’m not back properly yet, but I’ve been promoted to physio in the gym, and I should be able to start training with you guys again in a month or so,” you told your teammates, blushing slightly at the attention you were getting. For some reason you couldn’t meet the two women’s eyes, too anxious about what you’d find there. The team let out cheers and whoops at your statement, people leaning over to ruffle your hair or give you hugs.

After a few minutes, the physiotherapist clapped her hands together. “Okay, okay, in order for her to be able to train with you again, she needs to get fit enough first, which she can only do if you all let her get on with her physio session in peace, okay?”

Your teammates chuckled and backed away. Only then did you look up at Ona and Alexia, who were watching you intently. Ona was biting her lip, a nervous frown etched into her forehead, whilst Alexia looked more stoic, trying hard not to let anyone see how desperate she had been to see you and how worried she was about you. When you met their eyes, you instantly felt calmer, the bundle of nerves in your stomach washed away and replaced by a soft pang of familiarity.

When you smiled at them, they both relaxed instantly, the line between Ona’s eyebrows melting away, Alexia’s eyes softening as she met yours. They smiled back, and you couldn’t help but think about how beautiful they both were, each in their own way.

As the physiotherapist went through your exercises your mind kept wandering, and you kept catching yourself looking over to where they were going through their workout, Alexia jogging on one of the treadmills, Ona over by the weights. Every so often they would look over at you and your eyes would meet, and you’d smile, blushing, and look away again quickly. It felt like having a crush for the first time.

You lingered when your session was over, reluctant to go so soon.

“Don’t forget, your things are in my office,” the physiotherapist reminded you with a knowing smile. “And don’t worry, we’ll be back tomorrow.”

At home, you put the bouquet in a vase, admiring the flowers. One looked slightly different to the others, but you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Regardless, the bouquet was beautiful, and your stomach fluttered at the thought of the women buying you flowers.

By the time evening rolled around, you were starting to get hungry, and you wondered what Ona had meant by her note this morning. Just as you thought about messaging her to ask, the doorbell rang, and you opened it to find a delivery person holding a paper bag emblazoned with the logo of a nearby restaurant.

As you headed back inside your apartment, you took a quick picture of the bag and sent Ona a text.

[Y/N]: so this is what you meant with your note this morning :)

[Ona]: Yes!!

Along with her message was a picture. You recognised the background as her kitchen, and on the counter was a paper bag just like yours, the restaurant logo on the side.

[Ona]: Ale got food too, so we’re all eating together but apart :)

Warmth spread throughout your body, and you sent Alexia a quick message, sending her the same picture you’d sent Ona. As you opened the bag, your kitchen filled with the smell of food, and your stomach growled. You kept messaging both women as you ate, unable to deny the way your heart skipped a beat every time you received a new message from them, a smile glued to your face. By the time you fell into bed a few hours later, you’d exchanged hundreds of messages, and your cheeks hurt from smiling.

When you checked the front door the next morning, you were surprised to find a sweater next to the usual drink and pastry. Picking it up, you instantly recognised it as Ona’s, the one you would always borrow when you were at her place, the fabric soft between your fingers. You brought it up to your face and inhaled deeply, your lungs filling with the familiar scent of her perfume, and your mind filled with memories of the two of you.

You wore the sweater to your physio session, reluctant to take it off. When you arrived, the physio nodded over to the table again with a grin. “Another present for you.”

On the table was a protein shaker adorned with stickers of your teammates, and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Everyone had their own drinks tailored to their needs, and when you picked the shaker up you smiled as you realised they’d already filled it for you, a sticky note on the back telling you what was in it. You took the shaker into the gym with you, and when your teammates sidled in slowly, your eyes were on the door, waiting for Ona and Alexia to come through and see you using their gift.

When they did, their eyes scanned the gym, looking for you, and they immediately smiled when their eyes landed on you. You felt a rush at the sight of them and internally rolled your eyes at your behaviour - you were acting like a teenager with a crush rather than a grown woman. Still, you gave them a quick grin before going back to focusing on your therapy, and tried to ignore the way your heart had skipped a beat when they’d smiled at you.

#hannah writes fics #ona batlle x reader #woso x reader #woso #ona batlle #woso fanfics #woso imagine #ona batlle fanfic #ona batlle imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas fanfic #ona batlle x alexia putellas #alexia putellas x ona batlle #alexia putellas

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banggyu0308 · 10 months

Text

12:23am // Hueningkai

hueningkai x chubby!fem!reader

summary: kai can't explain how much he loves that little space between your thighs and your tummy that shows up when you're laying down, no wonder he's the big spoon at night ❤️

genre: fluff, smut, idol au

warnings: dom!kai, chubby reader, kai loves his hands all over the reader, spooning, fucking from behind, thigh slapping, like a millisecond of thigh fucking, slight bulge kink, finger sucking, multiple orgasms, use of petnames (angel), slight degradation? use of the word 'slut', unprotected sex, creampie, he takes one photo, not proofread

word count: 1.5k

taglist: @sunshinecherry , @huckleberrykai

Your mind is drifting somewhere between worlds while you sleep, but you slip into consciousness just long enough to realize Kai is laying behind you in bed. He has one hand on your hip, beneath the lightweight shirt you like to wear to sleep, the other tucked under his own head. The room is dark and thin slats of light from the streetlights outside peeking in through the blinds layer your bed in parallel streaks. It's late... later than usual, at least. He must've had to stay behind longer again.

But he's here now, and in your half-awake state you feel his pointer and middle finger slip to the small space between your left thigh and your tummy. When a small, surprised gasp leaves you at his touch, his lips brush your ear. "'s warm, just gonna sleep like this..." he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your neck. His lips are soft and gentle, but the touch has you wide awake in seconds.

You nod, a tiny movement of your head, and you're not sure if he noticed or not. You slowly slide back into sleep for only a moment before his slender fingers are gently rubbing at the soft skin of your thigh. You didn't know you were so sensitive there, but every brush of the very tip of his finger makes a tingly, tightening feeling shoot itself up your legs.

Kai makes note of the way your plush thighs squeeze together just the slightest, a little smile on his face. His first finger slips just a little further to where your thighs meet, smile turning into a smirk when he notices that your thin underwear are more than a little damp.

You feel a sudden ice on your back when he tugs the blanket down and your shirt up, a shiver running down your spine. You're no longer shivering, however, when he pushes his chest against your back, body flush to yours. A dull warmth spreads its way along your body when his hand makes it's way back to your thigh, like it belongs in the small space there.

When he makes no further movements except for a slight rub at your skin, you find yourself drifting back to sleep- you got up early yesterday and it's late. A small slap to your thigh makes you jolt back awake, turning in surprise to face him. Your eyebrows arch in question and he only shushes you, moving his other hand to part your legs.

"Wanna fuck you," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your jaw. What the words alone imply make your breath catch, and you squirm your way back against him.

"Please," you whisper back, covering your face with your shirt, cheeks hot.

His one hand still finding purchase on your hip, he quickly pulls down his own pants and boxers in one quick movement, slipping yours down your legs seconds later. You can feel his chest shudder up and down when his tip prods between your thighs. A small hiss leaves his lips upon feeling your thighs press tight around his dick and you chew your lip- he'd grazed your clit with his tip when he moved, and your whole body tensed in response.

Kai rocks his hips back again to find your entrance, letting himself sink just his tip inside. "Wanted this all day... all week, even, 'm sorry I've been coming home so late, angel."

You press your lips together to trap the little whimper threatening to slip past when he pushes a little further in. You always forget how big he is, every time, the stretch no longer painful at all when he's all the way in you. You can feel his head in your tummy, moving your hand from where it's gripping his shirt. You place your hand, palm down, on your stomach and press just a little, biting down hard on your lower lip when you feel him every time he rolls his hips forward against yours.

Kai sucks in another sharp breath when he feels your walls tighten greedily around him, you turning your face to bite into the soft silk of your pillowcase. He gently moves your face from the pillow, licking up his thumb once before placing it on your lower lip. You part your lips immediately, a small whine leaving your lips when you can taste him on his finger- you hadn't seen him put his own finger in his mouth.

"All week?" You mumble around his digits, trying to control the sounds leaving your mouth.

Kai hums in response, breath ragged in your ear when he picks up his pace slightly. "'nd i come home every night, you're always snuggled up so cute in bed, can see your tits so perfectly through your shirt... 've jerked off next to you so many times this week cause i didn't want to wake you up."

A small gasp forces its way from your throat when he speeds up, his words making your brain go fuzzy. "J-just wake me up, alright? Wanna help..."

He chuckles, landing one slap on your thigh. "Yeah? Want me to wake you up to fuck your little cunt? Pretty slut would love waking up to my cum in her, wouldn't she?"

You nod quickly, cheeks burning, and Kai slaps your thigh again. "Can't even speak, too focused on my dick, hm?"

Another nod from you and he's fucking into you so hard you let out a choked sob, cumming around him without warning, both his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you closer to him.

Your velvety walls tightening so desperately around him makes him almost go insane, nose pressed to your neck while his repeated movements never cease. "There we go, angel, thas it, s' good for me, aren' you?"

His words are practically slurred together, small, gaspy, breathy moans coating your neck from his lips. His noises only reach out and tug you closer to the familiar edge of your ecstasy, pretty boyfriend getting closer to his own, and he's making you feel so good in the process.

"Kai... I- 'm so close 'gain, wan' cum, please?" you gasp out, every thrust from him rocking your body forward against the mattress.

Without a response, he changes his angle just a bit and slows his movements to smooth, languid rocks of his hips that make his tip press perfectly against your gspot. It's almost teasing, switching the level of stimulation when you're so, so close, but then he starts his speed up again. It's so sudden that a small cry wrenches itself from your throat. Kai's fingers move from your hips to between your legs, rubbing at your clit just so, and your legs jolt in reaction, your hands finding the soft of his shirt again.

"Kai, wanna, please, please, please?" you practically beg, and his other hand takes hold of yours, fingers slipping to the spaces between yours.

"Go ahead angel... wanna feel the way you cum around me, takin' me so good, pussy fits my dick so well, 've fucked you into being perfect for me, haven't I?" he coos, squeezing your hand gently, just once.

You whimper slightly at the way his words wind their way into your mind, repeating over and over, practically matching the way your cunt throbs around him, body going limp against his chest. The occasional twitch of your walls sends him into bliss, trembling slightly.

Warm cum filling your pussy and a weak moan from your lips later and Kai's pulling out slowly, giggling when you whine in protest. "Gonna clean you up, gimme a sec?"

He detangles his hand from your grip, but not without giving you three light squeezes: 'i. love. you.'

A small, unsteady exhale leaves you, legs still shaking just a little, and lay on your back to spread your legs. It's easier for him to wipe up the cum from between your legs this way.

Soft wet rag cleaning the cum from your abused pussy, you lean your head back, eyes closed, barely registering when Kai returns the washcloth and lays beside you. His lips kiss up your neck in what earlier would've been taken as sultry, but now only makes you feel completely and utterly in love.

Teeth biting the marks left previous oh-so-delicately and you sigh, corners of your lips pulled into a little smile. His body wraps itself around yours, your temple resting against his chest, and you take a quiet few seconds to just listen to the sound of his heartbeat. You relish this moment- you haven't been able to have alone time with him that lasted over half an hour in a long while.

A giggle slips past your lips and ruptures the quiet of the moment, but you can't help it. The choice of how you spent your alone time is more than a bit entertaining.

Not that you mind- at all.

You take a long inhale, trying to memorize this moment in your head, when Kai says what you've been thinking this whole time, the both of you breaking into laughter.

"Missed you."

#ada speaks :)#adas hard hours #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #hueningkai smut #hueningkai hard thoughts #hueningkai hard hours #hueningkai fic #tomorrow x together hard hours #tomorrow x together hard thoughts #tomorrow x together smut

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blues824 · 1 year

Text

Savanaclaw x Siren!Reader

Gender-neutral Reader.

Leona Kingscholar

He knew something was wrong when you were an hour late to your daily cuddle session with him, so he opened his phone just to see a text from Azul. He let out an annoyed sigh as he opened the text, only to jump up and rush to Octavinelle as fast as he could because lo and behold: you had been turned into a siren.

Once he got there, the Lounge owner led you to where you were. He let out a small gasp upon seeing you swimming about: you looked so graceful and in your element. He called out to you by saying herbivore, and you met him at the water’s edge.

Fortunately, as Azul led him to you, he had warned the lion to not let you kiss him as he could be locked under your spell for eternity. Usually he doesn’t take advice from the other Housewardens, but this was one of the exceptions. However, with you having that luring look in your eyes, he knew that it would be the challenge of the century.

Then there was your song that he had to worry about. He was the only one who could hear it, and it haunted him in his dreams. All he could see was you calling out to him and looking so lonely. He didn’t know why his heart was tugging at him to go to you, but on the last night of you in this form, he followed through.

Upon seeing your face once again, Leona finally understood what sailors went through when they heard a siren song. His heart was pounding hard against his chest as you propelled yourself up to meet his lips halfway. Then, you pulled him into the water.

Thankfully, this was as the clock struck 12. So that meant the grumpy lion was not caught in your spell. But, since you had transformed back into his normal herbivore, he did have to carry you to Savanaclaw because your legs were wobbly. He did make you pay for the hard work through making you act as his pillow.

Ruggie Bucchi

He let out a few snickers when Jack had told him that you were transformed into a siren because of an accident in class, but he went to Octavinelle to see you. After all, you both had a routine where after school you would give him kisses and head pats upon seeing each other.

When he got there, the tweels actually led him to you, and he thought you looked breathtaking. Jade told him something that he did not pay attention to, mainly because you had noticed that your boyfriend was now here and thus his focus was now on you.

It would have done him some good to listen to the eel because he had warned the hyena that a kiss on the lips from you could mean that he would be stuck under your song. However, no kisses were delivered besides on your cheek because Ruggie had to go back to Leona since he still had a job to do.

But your voice and song had him under a trance throughout the next seven days. His actions were often thoughtless until someone mentioned your name. Sometimes you weren’t even singing. You were just using your voice and saying things like ‘I miss you, Ruggie’. He eventually caved in and went to go see you.

Once he did lay his eyes upon you on the final night, where your power was at its peak, his mind went empty as he went purely on instinct. His instincts were telling him to kiss you and answer your pleads for him, and so he did. The kiss didn’t break even when you pulled him into the water with you as the clock struck midnight.

The next day, he luckily wasn’t stuck under your song. He was glad that you were back to normal, though. But if your legs are wobbly from a week of having a tail, he doesn’t blame you and doesn’t mind helping you around the place.

Jack Howl

He was there when you were partnered up with Ace, and he was already on-edge because that guy was known for messing things up. So, imagine his not-so-surprised look when he saw that the Heartslabyul student had indeed messed up and spilled the potion. However, you turned into a siren, and he had to quickly carry you to Octavinelle so your scales didn’t dry out.

When he went to put you in the water, he went in as well so he didn’t throw you in. Azul and the tweels had warned him about your song and to not get entranced, so he tried to leave as fast as he could. He was about to climb out of the pool, when you started speaking.

You used your siren voice to plead with him not to leave and that you would be so lonely without him. Jack was trying so hard not to give in, but his heart and his mind were telling him that he needed to kiss you. It didn’t help that you wrapped your arms around his muscular one and looked at him with puppy dog eyes. But his resolve remained steadfast and he left.

Eventually, an entire week had passed, and every single night and day all he could think of was the sad look you gave him when he left each day he went to visit you. Your voice was in his mind when he worked out, when he went to class, when he went to sleep. It soon got to be too much for the wolf’s heart and he went to visit you on the seventh day.

And lo and behold: there you were, waiting for him. He didn’t exactly notice that until later, but right now he was just answering your calls for him. He actually went into the water so he could be closer to you, which was a mistake on his part considering time was almost up and you wanted to kiss him. Eventually, you propelled yourself up a little and wrapped your arms about his neck and placed your lips on his.

The next day, he definitely missed his morning workout. But, you were back to normal so he takes his losses. In addition to that, he wasn’t stuck under your curse because you kissed him as the clock struck 12. You both were incredibly lucky.

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koshkamartell · 1 month

Text

No One But Me

masterlist

You woke up sweating and tangled in your bed sheets after another fitful sleep full of bad dreams that seemed so realistic. You had always suffered from the occasional nightmare, as every survivor did, but lately you had been plagued by them more often.

They were vivid dreams that always revolved around the deaths of your loved ones. Hordes of the infected, grostesque beings with faces mutilated by cordyceps, would chase you relentlessly through thick forests or abandoned towns. Sometimes Ellie was with you, sometimes your parents. The dreams always ended similarly, with one of you being caught and barbarically devoured.

Each dream was traumatic and so lifelike. But you found the worst ones to be the dreams involving Ellie. They seemed to be happening more and more lately. In the dreams you would both be running from the infected, your laboured breathing and the crunch of earth under your shoes loud in your ears. You were running so fast that it seemed like you were escaping from the mob after you and freedom was just on the horizon, so close and so tangible.

Then disaster would strike. Ellie would trip over and land heavily onto her chest, the fall knocking the wind out of her small body. You would scream at her to get up and try desperately to haul her back up on her feet. But she was so heavy, like a lead weight, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't lift her. She lay motionless with her big eyes staring up at you full of tears. You would be screaming and crying hysterically as the infected approached, their shrieks and screeches deafening in your ears.

You would look up to see the horrible creatures rushing toward you then you'd look back to Ellie. Except it wasn't Ellie staring back at you now. Her face had changed. Staring back at you now was you as a child, 12 years old and frightened out of your wits. Time stood still as you and your child self gazed at each other in anguished horror. You were paralysed. The screams would get louder as the horde closed in on you. You squeezed your eyes shut when they reached you and lunged at you. Then you were enveloped in black.

And that's when your conscience returns to the reality of living and you wake up in the safety of Joel's arms or alone in your bed, disorientated and close to hyperventilating. Having Joel's warm body enclosed around yours as he whispered soothingly during these moments of profound distress was a blessing. It was something that you missed on the nights he didn't stay with you and you startled awake. Truthfully, it was just about the only time you missed Joel these days.

It had been a week since you negotiated your return to your cottage. You reveled in the comfort of your home and the security of all its quirks and nooks; the squeak of the kitchen cupboard where the mugs were kept, the small watercolour painting that hung in your hallway, the missing tile in your shower alcove, the smell of your herbal teas on your kitchen windowsill.

Joel still visited most nights and slept in your bed, entangling you in his strong arms and long legs. He invaded all your senses at once; his sandalwood and pine scent filling your nostrils, his thick fingers sliding into your pussy, his plush lips pressing against your neck, his intense dark brown eyes gazing at your face full of desire. You still surrendered yourself to Joel but there was a niggling part deep inside your heart that wouldn't settle, that caused your body to instinctively flinch when he touched you or when he spoke.

Joel had been trying very hard to prove himself to you. He had been loving and gentle, affectionate and attentive. The sex was still amazing. He hadn't gotten angry or annoyed with you. Infact, Joel had changed so dramatically that you couldn't help a modicum of hateful resentment spiking deep inside you. Why had it taken him so long to change? After all the damage he had inflicted, why did he now try to be better?

Joel had even uttered those three simple words that you had waited so long to hear. When you heard him say "I love you" for the first time you were left speechless. His voice echoed through your head for days to come. But that shock then morphed into indignation the longer you thought about what Joel had done. And then that softly spoken declaration of love dissipated completely, outweighed and replaced by the other things he had said.

Disrespectful little bitch.

Whore.

Slut.

The passion in his insults still stung. The phantom grip of his hands all over your body still haunted you. You were suffocated by his presence and had to retreat to your own safe space, not just physically but emotionally. And emotionally that safe space was Oscar.

Your weekly lunch date quickly became the highlight of your week. He never failed to show up, always with a meal and some fruit tucked in his satchel. That one hour of spent with Oscar was a blissful reprieve from the depressive spiral you had gradually been descending into. Just the sight of his smile was enough to pierce through the darkness smothering your existence, like a speck of guiding gold light offering hope.

Joel had snuffed the flame of your spirit, leaving you abandoned in darkness. But Oscar was the one whose hand had found yours, knitting his fingers through your own and offering you refuge in his light. It was he who gave you hope, a reason to strive against the oppression of Joel's dark side and the survivor's guilt and depression, a reason to want to be happy.

You still loved Joel. You are sure a part of you will always love him. But he cannot fix what he has broken inside you, no matter how dedicated he is in trying to repair the ruins between you. The more time passes, the clearer it becomes that you can no longer love him as you once did.

Oscar stands infront of the small mirror in his bathroom and runs a comb through his thick black hair. He hasn't shaved for the last three days and the stubble growing on his face is already prickly. He wonders if he should let it grow, if he looks better with a beard. He recalls the way you looked at him at the Tipsy Bison that night, the first time seeing him without the extra hair. Your eyes were twinkling with a mixture of something like intrigue and surprise, and what he believes - hopes - was a spark of attraction.

No, he decides. He will shave tomorrow.

Oscar splashes cold water on his face and brushes the sleep from his eyes. He doesn't take long to get ready for work, preferring to instead save enough time to eat a plate of scrambled eggs and have a cup of tea at a leisurely pace. He had spent far too many years on the brink of starvation to neglect his body's need for regular meals, and therefore he treats food with reverence. Once he's finished his breakfast Oscar washes his dishes and leaves the house for the stables.

On the walk there Oscar absorbs the sights and sounds around him. The snow on the trees lining the street look like powdered sugar, reminding Oscar of the donuts displayed in the window of the Jackson bakery. The sweet melody of chirping birds carries along the chilly breeze sweeping through the town, and the sounds feel like a warm morning greeting to Oscar. He stuffs his hands into his coat pockets and continues on his way, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead of him.

Joel is already at the stables when Oscar arrives. They greet each other and saddle their horses together, then go to the patrol post at the community gates to sign the log book and collect their rifles. Joel mounts his usual steed, a brown stallion named Tex, while Oscar hoists himself up onto his favourite mare, Misty. They trot through the massive gates of Jackson and set off on the well established route they have been assigned to.

Joel knows this route like the back of his hand. He doesn't need a map to navigate where they are going; he already knows what directions to take, every landmark that acts as a measurement of distance and time. The men settle into a companionable silence while they ride, and it isn't until an hour has passed that one of them says more than a handful of words.

"Tommy said Troy needed a week off," Oscar speaks up. "Is it his knee again?"

"It plays up in the cold," Joel grunts. "Gives him hell."

Like Joel, Troy had survived through many battles and escapades with both men and mutants, and he had the scars to prove it. Troy was younger and stronger than Joel, his body solidly built with more muscle and fat, but he was often plagued with aches and arthritis from old injuries. Joel empathised with Troy; his own back gave him much grief, the pain stemming all the way back to his contracting days.

"Check point is just up ahead," Joel announces. "We'll stop and survey the area, but I gotta piss first."

"Alright."

Less than half a mile away was a clearing that served as the first stopping point in the route. Joel and Oscar steer the horses to the glade and dismount them. Oscar stands and stretches his arms up over his head, sighing contentedly, then looks out over the small valley below them. The land is blanketed with snow and dotted with patches of green shrubs and trees. The vast Wyoming land is encompassed by the formidable grey mountains that sit in the distance. Oscar soaks up the sight before him, speechless by the panorama for a few moments.

"This view is surreal," Oscar remarks reverently. "Beautiful, like a dream."

Joel cracks his neck and pulls off the sling of his rifle from over his shoulder. "Speakin' of dreams, you been havin' any more bad ones lately?"

"Not many, actually. Work's been so busy that I just about pass out when I get home. And...well...I guess I've just been a bit happier lately," Oscar replies with a light-hearted smile.

Joel huffs a laugh and takes hold of his rifle. "Yeah? Finally got yourself a woman, huh?" He bends down to set the gun to stand against a large rock.

"I don't wanna say too much but...yeah, there's kinda someone," Oscar says, bashful as he rubs the back of his neck.

Joel tethers Tex's reins to a branch of one of the nearby trees before pacing a few feet away to urinate. When he finishes and ambles back to Oscar and the horses Joel resumes the conversation.

"What's she like?" Joel asks as he reaches down and picks his rifle up once again. Oscar strokes Misty's muzzle, his back facing Joel.

"Well, she's a real sweetheart. Smart, loves to read. Really cares about others, you know what I mean? Like kids and old people."

Joel's breath catches in his throat and his hand immediately tightens around the handguard of his rifle. Is Oscar talking about you?

Have you been cheating on him?

No, you can't be. You love him, not Oscar.

You'd never do that. Oscar must be talking about some other woman.

Joel knows he needs to appear indifferent if he wants to find out more information; getting angry when he doesn't have any details would do more damage than good. Joel slings his rifle over his shoulder, then reaches into his pocket and fishes out his flask. He carries out these actions slowly as he thinks of how to respond.

How the hell is he supposed to ask Estrada if he's fucking his woman? And goddamnit, it's not like he would have known you belong to Joel.

Unless you told him. Did you?

In this moment Joel wants nothing more than to show Estrada and every single person in Jackson that you are his - perhaps in some grand sweeping display of dominance. But for now he has to focus on what he can do, which is interrogating the younger man without scaring him.

Joel takes a deep breath to help compose himself enough to carry on the conversation. "Yeah? How long has somethin' been goin' on between you two?"

Oscar flips open his satchel and rummages around inside it for some of the jerky he always has stashed in one of the pockets. "We have been friends for a while now, but it isn't been anything more than just hanging out, you know?"

Hanging out.

Have you been seeing him since he left working at the library?

Where? Why?

Joel watches Oscar's every movement, every expression, searching for the sincerity in his words, any telltale sign of dishonesty. But Joel already knows that Oscar isn't the kind of man who lies or showboats.

"You ain't told her you got feelings?" Joel asks impassively.

"Not outrightly so. Not yet." Oscar responds with a sigh that clearly conveys his chagrin. "Guess I've been too chicken shit to do it."

Joel pops open the lid of the flask and takes a swig of scotch. The burn of it helps calms his nerves. "She feels the same, you reckon?"

Oscar locates the small bundle of jerky and pulls it from the satchel. "Well, I think so. She said I'm the only guy she is comfortable with. And she gives me these looks, like she wants more."

Joel pictures you standing infront of Oscar and flirting with him, shyly batting the lashes of your pretty eyes. Those same eyes that used to gaze at him with so much passion when he fucked you senseless. Joel's belly clenches with white hot envy at the thought of Oscar being the subject of your adoration instead of himself.

He shuts the flask and shoves it back into his jacket pocket.

"But she's not the kind to make the first move." Oscar explains earnestly. "She's quiet, shy. Would rather get lost in a book than be the life of the party."

It is you.

Estrada is talking about you. That he has feelings for you and you probably reciprocate them, and that he's the only man you feel comfortable with.

Joel whips around to avoid Oscar's gaze. Flames of jealous fury lick up the nape of his neck and burn into the back of his eyes. His nostrils flare as his breathing speeds up, his heart pounding in his ears.

Are you fucking Estrada?

Are you going to leave him and end up with this weak piece of shit and let him be the one to fuck you and own you?

Both of Joel's fists are balled so tightly into themselves that the skin of his knuckles have turned white. It takes all of Joel's might and willpower to suppress the poisonous wrath coursing through his body. The primal, more reactionary part of Joel's brain says to shoot Oscar in the face instantly, and if Joel were in his younger raider years he would have splattered the man's brains out onto the dazzling white snow without a second thought.

He could easily dispose of Oscar's body somewhere in the vast expanse of forest land surrounding them, no trace of him left behind to ever to be found. Joel imagines being surrounded by a large group of townsfolk on his return and delivering the tragic news that his patrol partner died while out on a routine patrol route. Maybe Joel would say Oscar was viciously mauled by a clicker out of no where, or maybe raiders ambushed them and fatally shot him. No one would question the validity of Joel's version of Oscar's demise; why would he lie? And after all, Joel was one of the very best patrolmen in Jackson and he surely would've done everything he could to save Oscar.

But by some miracle Joel is narrowly able to restrain the impulse to murder Oscar. He reminds himself over and over that he must control his fury. Control, control, control. He consciously regulates his breathing, inhaling through his nose and then exhaling through his mouth. The anger seems to slowly dissolve and leech into Joel's blood stream, icy and venomous as it flows through his veins, no longer imminent in its threat but nonetheless still alive.

Joel immediately realises he has to do something about this friendship between you and Oscar. There is no way in hell that he will allow this to go on, and behind his back, no less. Before all this bullshit happened on Jackson's birthday, Joel would've stalked straight into that library to teach you a lesson; he would have marked you all over with his mouth and teeth and then he would have fucked all your holes.

But things are different now, and Joel has to find other ways to deal with the situation that's been presented to him. He needs to come up with a plan that will tear you and Oscar apart without implicating himself in the destruction.

When Joel remains quiet and does not show any response, Oscar shakes his head and let's out a sheepish groan. "Shit, sorry for boring you with this stuff, man. I don't tend to talk about this kinda thing with anyone, I guess it's all come rushing out."

"Hope it all works out for ya, man," Joel says gruffly with his back still facing Oscar. "Now let's get back on route."

"Thanks, man." Oscar calls out.

Joel's jaw ticks. He has found benefit in Tommy's advice of controlling his temper; the discipline allows Joel the ability to strategically plan, to contemplate different courses of action in order to gain an advantage in a situation. And if executed effectively, Joel knows the repercussions of those plans could destroy you and Oscar.

The next morning Joel arrived at the patrol post for his shift earlier than usual. He flipped through the pages of the large hardcover log book where each ranger recorded their name, the day, and the starting time and ending time of their shift.

The first lined column of the page detailed the week of the day and in the next was where the times were written. The following columns showed the rangers names and their signatures, as well as a space for comments and notes about that particular shift.

Joel scanned along the name column in search of Oscar's name. He discovered that on average Oscar was working patrol three days a week, always on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. He also worked at the stables on Monday, Wednesday and Sunday, sometimes on the Saturday as well. Joel's tongue licked along the inside of his cheek as he contemplated what this meant.

If you and Oscar were spending time together, it would have to be during the day - night time would be impossible for you because you were with Joel or Ellie so often. Oscar wouldn't be able to see you during the day when he was on patrol, so that cancelled out Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. And you wouldn't be able to meet Oscar on the days you were at school without children and teachers gossiping. No, you needed more privacy than what the school environment was able to offer.

That left your library shifts. It made sense. It was the perfect place for more clandestine meetings and it was where you two had met. Joel's jaw clenched at the thought of you and Oscar alone together.

Joel deduced that the only day you worked there in which Oscar could possibly visit you was Wednesdays.

Wednesday. Five days time.

Just enough time for Joel to make sure you stayed his.

That Saturday night Ellie came to Joel's for family dinner and movie night. Despite the limited range of movies available in Jackson, Ellie located a tape that neither of you had seen before. It was always exciting to watch a VHS movie on Joel's large analog television. It was an activity Joel and Ellie used to enjoy together, however it had become a rare occurrence in the last year or so that Ellie had become more independent and sociable. So although Joel grumbled about staying up late to watch a ridiculous movie, you knew he secretly loved the opportunity to spend time with Ellie in the comfort of the living room, snuggled by blankets and pillows and a big bowl of popcorn.

At dinner time the three of you sat at the dining table to eat the soup and freshly baked bread you had made that evening. As usual, Ellie was the centre of attention and was entertaining the two of you with stories of her work escapades and what her and her friends had gotten up to that week.

"Hey, you know that Oscar guy?" Ellie asks eagerly. "Works at the stables and does patrol?"

Your heart skips a beat to hear Oscar's name spoken and your head automatically turns to look at Ellie across the dining table. She grins and raises her eyebrows like she is dying to share some kind of secret with you both.

"Partnered on patrol with him this week," Joel replies casually before taking a fork full of potato into his mouth.

The throwaway comment surprises you and you momentarily freeze, your spoon stilling in the middle of scooping a spoonful of soup. The thought of Oscar and Joel working alongside one another makes you uneasy, like their proximity is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. You haven't cheated on Joel but he doesn't know how close you and Oscar are or how profound your friendship is, and if Oscar were to somehow mention you then you're sure Joel would not be pleased.

"Well, Uncle Tommy said he'd show me how to throw an axe, just like the competition we saw!" Ellie exlaims enthusiatically, looking from you to Joel. "So he took me today and Oscar and that Matt guy tagged along and we had our own competition to see who was the best."

You secretly glance at Joel to gauge his reaction but he appears apathetic as he eats, shoulders hulking as he leans over his bowl, eyes trained on the soup before him.

"Uncle Tommy was bragging that he would kick their asses but then Oscar beat him like, three times in a row!" Ellie snickered, shaking her head at the fond memory. "It was fucking hilarious."

You picture Oscar gripping the heavy wooden handle of an axe, its blade sharp and glinting dangerously in the sunlight. You imagine the determined expression on his face as he eyes the target ahead, how his stance shifts into the best position for him to pull back and launch the weapon. You imagine his shirt sleeves rolled up to his biceps, revealing the olive skin of his forearms.

Oh, how you wished you could have been there.

Joel remains quiet and does not acknowledge Ellie's anecdote, so you muster a little smile and nod at her to show you've been listening. "That sounds like fun," you supply.

"Yeah it was. You guys should come watch next time." Ellie slurps some soup before turning her attention to Joel. "So do you and Oscar like, chill when you're not on patrol?"

"Nah," Joel grunts, not meeting Ellie's eyes. "I'm too busy workin'." He pauses for a few beats before adding, "and he's busy with some mystery woman alotta the time, forgot what he said her name was."

Your spoon drops from your hand and clatters down into your bowl with a sudden clang. No one notices and Ellie continues talking, but Joel's words ring in your ears.

Oscar has a woman...and they spend alot of time together.

Why had he never told you? Is that why he was so busy for all those weeks, is that why he didn't visit you in the library when he stopped working with you?

Tears prick at your eyes and threaten to spill over your lash line. You hurriedly blink them away and discreetly wipe your eyes with your sleeve.

You stupid, stupid girl.

You have no right to feel like that, your mind hisses. How can you feel betrayed when you've done exactly the same thing, seeing Joel without telling Oscar anything? Oscar has every right to be happy with someone else and it's none of your business.

And you know this well. You want Oscar to be happy in any way he can be. He deserves it. And if that happiness is found with another woman, one you know nothing about, then so be it. You should wish him good luck and be glad that he's got someone to share his life with.

But why did it have to work out like this? Why hadn't I met Oscar before Joel?

You nibble on the inside of your lip and try to quell the deluge of emotions and thoughts flooding your mind. You raise your head to look at Joel and find he's already staring at you. He looks handsome in the soft light of the dining room with his fluffy greying curls and his rich chocolate brown eyes sparkling at you. You offer him a tiny smile, disguising the hurt swirling around your heart. Joel's lips curl into a little smirk in return and he winks at you, then turns his attention back to Ellie's rambling.

You glance over to Ellie and watch her speak animatedly to Joel, marvelling at how her eyes glint with mischievous charm, how the corners of her mouth curve into her endearing smile, similar to her adoptive father. Oh, how your heart aches for Ellie. You need to focus on the family you've created with Joel and Ellie, this precious piece of life that you have been given. It's what you've always wanted, after all. And now you have it, you cannot throw it away.

The following Tuesday morning Joel paid a visit to Tommy at his home. Maria had already left the house for the day to get an early start on the tasks assigned to her by the committee, which suited Joel fine. He never felt completely comfortable being around Maria. He always felt like she was judging his every word and action. Joel sensed it in the way she watched him like a hawk whenever he played with her and Tommy's two children, or how she seemed to incessantly quiz he and Ellie during every family dinner they attended.

Nosey bitch, Joel thought.

But this morning Joel was thankful to be able to relax without Maria lurking by. The brothers chatted in the kitchen as Tommy stood at the stove frying a pan full of eggs and strips of bacon. Joel leaned against the kitchen counter next to him and sipped on the slightly bitter black coffee Tommy had made.

"I tell ya, won't be long til Ellie gets the hang of that axe," Tommy chuckled. "Better watch out, big brother."

"Anyone gets hurt and you're responsible," Joel grumbled good naturedly. He slurped a mouthful of coffee and scratched the scruff along the side of his jaw.

"Deal," Tommy smirked and poked the sizzling bacon with the spatula in his hand. "So, how's everythin' goin' with your lady? She forgiven you yet?"

Joel rolled his eyes and shifted his weight on his feet, obviously uncomfortable with Tommy's candour. "Better. But I gotta favour to ask you."

Tommy glanced at Joel and raised his eyebrows. "What can I do for ya?"

"Need to swap my Wednesday shift," Joel said before taking another sip, purposely avoiding Tommy's gaze.

Tommy sighed and flipped one of the eggs in the pan. "Already had Troy off last week. It's been hard gettin' shifts filled lately, you know how sickness goes around."

"Yeah I know, but Tommy, I need tomorrow free," Joel explained firmly. "I'll owe ya one."

Tommy hummed thoughtfully. "You gonna tell me what's goin' on?"

Joel placed his coffee mug down on the kitchen counter. "Just wanna spend some time with her, that's all. Tryin' to change for the better, like ya said."

Tommy smiled to himself, seemingly pleased that his brother had listened to his advice. "Joel Miller, a romantic," he mused teasingly.

"Shut up," Joel muttered. "Now will ya cover me or what?"

Tommy nodded. "Yeah, okay. But I can't do a double shift - Maria would kill me."

"So ask someone else," Joel shrugged. He tried to appear like he was sincerely thinking of different suggestions for who might be available. "Well, who ain't rostered on Wednesdays? What about...Harry? Or....or Estrada?"

Joel knew Harry was already working at the blacksmith sheds tomorrow and wouldn't be able to swap onto a patrol shift. Joel also knew full well that Oscar was at the stables and would easily be able to fill in.

Tommy smoothed his moustache with his thumb and forefinger and clicked his tongue. "I reckon Oscar might be able to."

And there we go, Joel thought smugly as a triumphant glow spread wide across his chest. So fuckin' easy.

He clapped his hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Look, leave it with me, I'll go arrange it with him. Save you the trouble."

"Good," Tommy laughed and nodded along. He turned off the burner on the stove and gave his brother a wry grin. "Cos I don't need anymore headaches, asshole. Now get the plates and let's eat."

It was your day at the library and also the day of your weekly lunch date with Oscar. You were nervous to see him, having spent the last few days contemplating if you should bring up the question of whether or not he was now seeing someone.

It is not your business, you kept reminding yourself, you need to let it go.

Each week on Wednesday, like clockwork, Oscar arrived at the library at noon. But today he didn't come strolling through the door at the expected time. You watched the clock intently as the minutes progressed. When he still hadn't shown by 12.15pm you reasoned that there must be a mountain of work to do at the stables and he's just running a little late. You continued to wait patiently, still taring at the ticking hands of the clock on the wall opposite where you stood.

At 12.30pm you began to panic. Perhaps something had happened to Oscar. What if there had been an accident at the stables? Or maybe Oscar was sick? But then you remembered Joel's revelation at dinner last week and his words rang in your ears like a jeering jingle.

"He's busy with some mystery woman alotta the time."

You couldn't help the taunting feeling of rejection that came creeping into your mind. What if Oscar had stood you up to go see this woman instead? What if he had forgotten about you? You shook your head to rid yourself of the intrusive thoughts but as the minutes passed by excruciatingly slow, your spirit sunk lower and lower into the pit of your stomach.

When he hadn't shown up by 1.30pm all you wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed to wallow in your sorrow.

Then the door bell jingled. Your head quickly snapped toward the door.

But it wasn't Oscar who had finally arrived. Instead, you were met by the sight of Joel purposefully striding into the library with a satisfied grin on his face. His hair was slicked back, fresh from the shower, and he wore a black long sleeved shirt underneath his Carhartt jacket. You were even more unnerved by how gorgeous he looked.

"J-Joel?" You stuttered, completely dumbfounded. You couldn't even remember the last time Joel had been inside the library.

"Hey, baby," Joel drawled silkily as he approached you.

"H-hi," You mumbled dumbly, still awestruck by his presence.

Joel wrapped an arm around your waist and gathered you into his broad chest, his other hand coming up to cradle the side of your face tenderly in his palm. He tilted your face up at him while he stared down at you with a loving adoration in his gaze. Your tummy fluttered with nervous excitement, then Joel bent his head to kiss you softly on the mouth.

The smell of soap mixed with Joel's scent engulfed your nostrils as you surrendered to the kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth and lapped at your own in slow rolling strokes, making you moan softly. Joel squeezed your waist and you reached up to run your fingers through his hair.

You forced Oscar from your mind. You had to, otherwise the pain of disappointment would be too much.

Joel continued to sensually kiss you and your whole body wilted into his strong chest. The familiarity of his warm body enveloping you somehow felt simultaneously comfortable and tantalising, so simple yet so arousing.

Maybe I do belong here, you randomly mused.

When you felt the thick press of Joel's hardened dick against you it caused an involuntary lustful stirring inside your belly. You soon forgot about Oscar and all you could focus on was Joel. The minty taste of his saliva with a hint of coffee. The light tickle of his moustache on your lips. The wide expanse of his palm cupping your face. How his aquiline nose fit so perfectly against your face.

Your clit throbbed with desire. You couldn't resist the way your body responded to him any longer. You were about to grind your pelvis against Joel's crotch when he gently pulled away from the kiss.

"Wait," you whined, confused and frustrated.

Joel stroked his thumb over your cheekbone as he looked down at you, smirking with cocky satisfaction. "Now babydoll, before we get carried away here, I got somethin' for you."

"Uhm, okay," you whispered, uncertain what to expect.

Joel released you from his grasp and took a step backward. You watched, intrigued, as he reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a white handkerchief folded into a small square. It had a delicate lace trimming along its edges.

"Open your hand," Joel instructed you softly. You obediantly held out your hand with your palm facing up and Joel carefully placed the handkerchief onto it.

"What is it?" You asked, your eyes flickering up to look at Joel uncertainly.

"Open and see," he said with a nod to your hand.

You carefully unfurled the pretty white material in your hand and found a delicate gold chain curled in the middle. You gasped. It was the necklace from the shoebox you had found while snooping through Joel's possessions. You swallowed and reminded yourself to act surprised in order not to raise Joel's suspicions.

You held up the necklace to study it closer and noticed just how pretty the attached jewel pendant was. As you dangled it infront of you the light reflected off the jewel, causing it to twinkle mesmerically. You hadn't remembered it being so attractive when you briefly spied it in the shoebox. Now that you held it close, you could appreciate just how beautiful it was.

"Wow," you breathed, eyes fixated on the piece of jewellery. "Wow...this is amazing, Joel."

"Just for you, baby," Joel murmered. "You like it?"

You couldn't help giving him a shy little smile. "I do," you whispered truthfully. "Thank you."

Joel smiled back at you and leaned in to press a chaste kiss on your forehead. He watched the delight in your expression as you examined the necklace, pride bursting inside his heart at being the one to make you smile.

Joel ended up staying with you at the library for a while to keep you company and browse through some of the book titles. When a horde of noisy school children came barging in through the door, you looked at him and laughed, knowing that he would make a hasty escape.

As Joel was about to walk out the door he spied a folded piece of paper peeking out from under the welcome mat just inside the entrance. He discreetly bent down and picked it up before stalking away towards home.

Back at his house Joel made sure to tear up the paper into tiny irretrievable pieces. He needed to make sure that you could never read the apologetic note Oscar had written. He must have slipped under the library door before his patrol shift earlier that morning, Joel presumed.

It is busy in the mess hall that night. It's close to 8pm, the latter part of the dinner shift, so the families and children have already eaten and are now home, tucked up safe and warm in their beds. Most of the residents occupying the mess hall now are workers who began later in the day, such as the afternoon labourers that took over from the morning crews.

You and Rhi sit at one of the smaller tables amongst the throng of diners and pick at the food on your plates. You listen to her impassioned report about why her supervisor is a control freak, how the sewing machines at the haberdashery need maintenance but no one listens to her, and that she is sick of being condescended to because of her age. You nod along sympathetically. Although Rhi can be obstinate at times, you know she's a dedicated seamstress who takes her craft seriously and you dislike seeing her be treated so unfairly.

Joel is already seated and eating dinner with Troy, Tommy, Harry and Oscar. His gaze fell upon you the moment you walked into the mess hall and he found himself furtively glancing your way every so often. He only half listens to the trivial conversation going on around him, not really interested in the bantering and amicable debates the other patrolmen liked to engage in.

Joel wasn't the only one to notice your presence, though. He clocked the way Oscar's head turned in your direction and the way his back straightened when he spied you. Oscar wasn't adept at disguising his feelings very well, Joel had come to learn. He could see the yearning on Oscar's face as clear as day.

Christ, the bastard had really fallen for you.

Sometime later, when the men had almost finished eating their meal, Tommy excuses himself and disappeares to the kitchen. Joel lazily picks at his teeth with a toothpick and observes you and Rhi.

Damn, you're so beautiful, especially when you're so unaware that you're being watched, he thinks.

Tommy returns a minute later and throws a conspiratorial wink at his older brother as he sits back down at the table. Joel leans back in his chair and folds his arms and patiently waits to see his plan unfold.

It's only another minute before a woman approaches their table and shyly clears her throat. The men look at her expectantly but she seems to zero in on Oscar.

"Excuse me," she speaks, voice silky and polite. "Oscar, I was wondering if I could have a word?"

Oscar raises an eyebrow at the woman. "Me?" He asks her, confounded.

She nods coyly and hitches a thumb over her shoulder. "Maybe over this way, for a bit of privacy?"

The patrolmen give each other teasing smirks while Oscar stands up and follows the woman. Their eyes watch Oscar and the woman as they walk to an unoccupied space a few tables away and stand to talk.

"Whose she? What's that all about?" Harry pipes up.

"Tryin' my hand at a bit of matchmakin'," Tommy answers with a cheeky grin. "Joel figures we should get him set up with someone."

"Why, Joel Miller," Troy laughs heartily. "Regular ol' cupid, huh?"

Joel rolls his eyes and mutters. "Shut the fuck up."

The men all laugh and glance back over at Oscar.

It is in the same moment that you catch sight of Oscar for the first time tonight. Seeing his face sends a shameful pang of dejection spearing into your heart. He stood you up and now here he is without a care in the world. He doesn't appear to be injured or unwell, either. Infact he looks really good.

And he's also with a woman.

You swallow thickly.

This must be the mystery woman.

You watch them intently and realise you recognise who she is. Her name is Gayle. You had known her from your time on cleaning and food prep duty. Gayle was a friendly woman and easy to talk to. She was also beautiful, with long blonde hair and light blue eyes and a wide smile. She was probably around Oscar's age, perhaps even a bit older.

You watch the interaction from where you sit, hating the wretched bubbles of envy simmering in your guts. Oscar is facing away from you but you have a clear view of Gayle and the bright smile plastered on her face, aswell as the enthusiasm in her body language. You wish you could hear their conversation and what he's saying to her.

It doesn't matter, though. The scene is too much for you to bear. It hurts to see him but it hurts your heart even more to see him with another woman.

You're such an idiot.

You quickly mumble to Rhi that you are done eating and want to go home. Rhi feels the same. When you both stand up to leave the table you are suddenly blockaded by three men. They stand tall infront of you with their arms crossed, exuding an intimidating air of arrogance. They leer at you and Rhi with taunting smirks carved on their faces.

"Hey babe, where'd you disappear to?" The blonde ranger chuckles to Rhi.

Oh, this must be that asshole who touched her.

"Anywhere you wouldn't be, apparently." Rhi spits back. "Get out of our way, Beau."

He shakes his head and grins down at her. "Nah, I want another chance. What do you say, baby? Ya didn't even let me get a proper turn."

Rhi growls and stabs her forefinger into his chest. "Listen here, dickface. I don't want anything to do with you, so fuck off."

The three of them snicker. The Beau tuts at Rhi leans closer to her face, now completely invading your space. "Maybe I'll just have to fuck your little friend here, then she can tell you what you're missing out on."

Suddenly you're aware of the loud thud of boots stomping against the floor, but before your mind can register what's happening, Joel's meaty hand grabs onto Beau's shoulder and wrenches him backwards. He stumbles.

"What the fuck?"

Joel shoulders himself past the men and stands himself past the men and stands beside you and Rhi.

"Think the ladies made themselves clear the first time, boys," Joel barks. "They ain't interested."

The young men seem to recognise Joel and the obnoxious smirks fall from their faces immediately. One of the dark haired men visibly loses all his confidence and shuffles back a few steps away from Joel and his friends. Beau is clearly the ring leader of the group as he remains standing where he is, chest puffed out and glowering petulantly between Joel and Rhi.

"She's being a tease," the blonde ranger argues back indignantly "Flirts with me from across the room and then acts like a bitch when I try talk to her!"

Rhi scoffs loudly and rolls her eyes. "Yeah right, Beau."

You glance up at Joel to see his steely gaze pinned to the young man, his furrowed brows and clenching jaw signalling his aggravation. Beau was almost as tall as Joel but no where near as imposing in strength and presence. He looked foolish standing infront of Joel trying to justify himself. The hall has fallen silent and everyone has turned to watch the confrontation unfold before them.

"That should tell ya she ain't interested." Joel said through gritted teeth.

"Well, her friend hasn't said anything," the other ranger quips, gesturing to you. "You don't speak for both of them."

A seething wrath blazes in Joel's eyes when the arrogant words fall from the young man's mouth. The air is uncomfortably thick with tension. You shuffle backwards a little and press against Rhi's side and, sensing your unease, she slips her arm around your side.

"Matter of fact, I do. And she ain't interested, either. Now get the fuck outta here before I break your jaw." Joel growls.

Joel steps closer to the younger men, challenging them to dare defy him. You swear you can feel the collective suspense of the townsfolk all around you. Your heart beat pounds in your ears as your eyes darting back and forth between Joel and the others.

All the self assured macho arrogance drains from the three men's faces at the threat of Joel Miller beating the shit out of them. Their shoulders slump in defeat and then they begin to walk away, scoffing and sneering as they leave, their anger at being rejected now exacerbated by their humiliation. One of them mutters "whatever, man" under his breath and Beau glares at Rhi. She sticks her middle finger up at him.

"You okay?" Joel asks.

He's addressing both you and Rhi but his soulful brown eyes are trained solely on you. His brows are furrowed with worry. You stare back up at him and nod, dumbstruck by such a public display of his concern.

"Yeah, thanks for that, Joel." Rhi answers with a smile. "I reckon they won't be a problem anymore."

Joel glances at her and nods curtly, then looks back to you. You feel captivated by the expressive beauty of his features, like how his mouth parts ever so slightly, as if he is breathless, and the almost sorrowful way his gaze roams all over your face. There is no trace of anger reflected in Joel now, only a gentle protectiveness that makes your tummy feel fluttery. The intimacy of the moment between you and Joel makes you forget about the rest of the townsfolk surrounding you. You feel the sudden urge to kiss him.

"Can I walk you home?" Joel asks you, his voice soft but gravelly.

"Yes, please," you whisper back.

"Strong and chivalrous. I guess you'll be safe without me," Rhi chuckles as she slips her arm from around your waist. "Go have fun."

You flash a shy smile at her and she gives you an enthusiastic nod of encouragement. Joel steps aside and holds his arm out, gesturing for you to stand and walk next to him. You sidle up beside Joel and feel his hand come to rest possessively on your lower back. The magnitude of this exhibition is profound - no one has ever witnessed Joel Miller actually touch a woman before, and doing so with such reverence and familiarity. It is a statement, a declaration. Joel has claimed you.

He escorts you through the mess hall to up to the door.

"Come on baby, let's go home," he murmers close to your ear.

He pushes open the door and pulls you close against him in order to squeeze through the threshold together, and you giggle.

You don't look behind you, not even to check if everyone is still watching you (which they are). You don't see Rhi proudly grinning after you, or Tommy smirking quietly to himself. You don't see Oscar or his crestfallen expression, or how his orbs swim with woeful disappointment to see you walk away with another man.

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odyssean-flower · 10 days

Text

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 12 - Summer: Photos

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: The date has ended successfully, but it also brought about an unexpected turn of events

Warnings: None except for the fact that this story is 50% written based on vibes Note: This chapter isn't beta'd so sorry in advance for any typos or rough edges Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette enjoying some tea

Previous | Next

“My dear Iudex, are my eyes deceiving me, or is that a smile on your face?”

Neuvillette raised his gaze from the documents spread out before him. Furina was standing on the other side of his desk. Of course, he had heard her enter his office before she even spoke, but he was so used to her unannounced intrusions these days that he treated it as a part of his daily routine now. I only hope that she makes this quick. I have a rather heavy agenda today, and I would like to return home before dark.

Furina leaned over his desk, her heterochromatic eyes eagerly scanning the desk for some sort of incriminating evidence to grab onto. Of course, she found none. Neuvillette wasn’t so foolish that he would make such a careless mistake.

“Hmph, I didn’t know that paperwork could inspire such a joyous expression on one’s face. What a contrast you make with the Gestionnaires outside your door! You really must get out more.”

“My dear Iudex, are my eyes deceiving me, or is that a smile on your face?”

“Hmph, I didn’t know that paperwork could inspire such a joyous expression on one’s face. What a contrast you make with the Gestionnaires outside your door! You really must get out more.”

“Indeed, I have, thanks to your urging. I believe you’ve already read the note I left you.”

“Ah, yes, that sorry excuse for a note,” Furina sniffed. “‘Will be away for a day due to personal reasons.’ No mention of where you’re going or who you’ll be with.”

“I see no reason why I should have included either of those things. I followed all the necessary protocol for requesting leave, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Oh, I am. I’m overjoyed to hear that you’ve been picking up new hobbies lately. It must be the influence of your new wife. If only you’d allow me to meet this remarkable woman so I can thank her.”

“New hobbies? Whatever do you mean?” Neuvillette ignored that last part.

“Why, your new hobby of photography, of course!” Furina propped her head on her hands, affecting an air of nonchalance, but her eyes gleamed like a cat that had a tantalizing mouse set in its sights. It was a look that Neuvillette was all too familiar with. “I’ve heard whispers that you’ve sent off a large number of photos to be developed, and that you’ve gone on a recent shopping spree for photo albums. Your day-off seems to have been very fulfilling.”

“It was, indeed,” Neuvillette nodded. His face gave nothing away. This was also not a surprise and was in fact well within his expectations. He had felt the gaze of Furina’s spies more frequently as of late, but it was not a difficulty for him to evade them. The one who developed the photos for him was a trusted agent of the Marechausee Phantom, and the envelope which contained the finished products (which he had fortunately received well before Furina’s intrusion into his office) hadn’t been tampered with.

“Oh, I know it was. A boat ride on the sea, huh? How romantic! I didn’t know you had it in you, Neuvillette. All those romance novels I’ve supplied you with seem to have paid off. Oh, if only there had been someone there that day to take a commemorative photo of such an astonishing sight, the Iudex taking a human out on a date!”

Neuvillette went very still. “Get to the point,” he said, his voice cold.

Furina’s grin widened. The cat was getting ready to pounce. “It just so happens that a subordinate of mine was out at sea on the very same day that you were out and saw that astonishing sight for himself,” she took out a photo from her pocket and slapped it onto his desk. It was a clear picture of him helping his wife off the boat after they returned to the docks at the Court of Fontaine.

Neuvillette’s blood ran cold. How could this have happened?

“Not the most fashionable, is she?” Furina peered at the photo. “I don’t recognize her, so she must not come from a very important family, either. But putting that aside, what a charming couple the two of you make! Honestly, Neuvillette, I do wonder how--”

"Leave my office. Now.” Neuvillette’s palms slammed against his desk as he rose to his full height, causing Furina to back up a few steps despite herself. He felt an absurd urge to cover the photo with his hands, to protect the image of you from the scrutinizing gaze of an outsider. “You've seen her face now. Be satisfied with that and resign yourself to the fact that you will never meet her.”

A startled expression appeared on Furina’s face before it was quickly replaced with a smug smile.

“My, my, Neuvillette,” she purred before plopping herself down on the couch next to his desk and crossing her legs. “I would reconsider, if I were you.”

"Have I not told you to leave—”

“Now that I know what your wife looks like, it’ll take very little effort on my part to find out who she is soon enough. My network of informants is extensive, as I know you’re aware. But I’m a magnanimous god, so I shall give you a week to think it over. If you won’t allow me to meet your wife by that time, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands and find her myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I had expected better of you.”

“Oh, don’t give me that!” Furina suddenly stood up and marched over to his desk. “You’re the one who won’t agree to a simple meeting! I’d expect you to be more grateful, considering how I’m the one who pushed you to get married! If it weren’t for me, you would never have even thought of approaching this woman, who you clearly care for a great deal, and you’d probably spend the next five hundred years continuing to mope about on your own, never knowing what you could have had!”

There was a long, tense silence after her rant. “Are you finished here?” Neuvillette said, struggling to suppress the violent tempest of emotions swirling inside his heart.

“I suppose I am,” Furina stood up. “By the way, Neuvillette, you should be thankful that it was a subordinate of mine who took this photo and gave it directly to me, and not someone from those third-rate tabloids you despise so much. I’d love to see you ignore that scandal away.”

Neuvillette said nothing, simply glaring at her. His hands were curled into fists at his sides.

“See you in a week, my dear Iudex. Do pass on my regards to your wife.”

After saying that, Furina spun around and strode towards the door. It was only after the door closed behind her firmly that Neuvillette leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

Torrential rain beat against the large window behind him. He wanted to walk into it, to wade into the sea.

I was too negligent, he cursed himself in his head. I should have been more careful.

Throughout his long career, he had become adept at evading reporters and paparazzi. And yet, somehow, this happened.

Anger and fear gripped his heart. He didn’t care what the papers said about him. But the thought of you becoming fodder for them was intolerable.

The sight of your tear-filled eyes had been like daggers to his heart. He never wanted to see them again.

He took a sip of water (imported from the frozen rivers of Snezhnaya) to cool his head and gazed at the painting hanging near his desk. By a fortunate twist of fate, you hadn’t signed it. However, its usual calming efficacy was diminished today.

Neuvillette had wanted to look at the photos again during his break, but now he was too on edge to even think of opening his desk drawer and taking the envelope out. It felt like just the act of it would be exposing its contents to danger, even though he knew that was irrational.

He could sense the clouds covering the sun outside the window behind him. There would be a downpour on this fine evening, and he silently apologized to the people of Fontaine, and especially to a certain young lady who was doubtless in the garden right about now.

The sooner I finish my work, the sooner I can return home, he thought, in a vain attempt to calm himself. And give the photos to her. I know she has been waiting for them eagerly. I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed…

Unconsciously, his feet began tapping against the floor.

This can still be salvaged, he told himself. Nothing has happened yet. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her peace.

Switching back into work mode, Neuvillette sat up once more—and let out a pained grunt. His hair had gotten caught in the cracks of his chair.

“Where is this rain coming from? It was clear just a few minutes ago,” you grumbled as you stared up at the lead-colored sky. It had been a beautiful day like it had been for weeks, but for some reason, the clouds decided to unleash their water just as you had finished taking the daily sunflower measurements.

I bet Neuvillette is enjoying this, you thought as you went to stand under the eaves. It hasn’t rained in quite a while.

“Madame, it’s raining,” Marie opened the porch door. “You didn’t get wet, did you?”

“Just a little bit, but it’s nothing too bad. Marie, could you fetch me my umbrella?”

“You’re still planning to garden in this weather, Madame?”

“I just want to take one last look. I’ll be done soon.”

After Marie gave you your umbrella, you marched back out to the plot of sunflowers again.

The sunflowers were coming along nicely. They now reached the height of your hip and formed small, tightly closed buds. There were no yellow petals peeking through yet, but you were confident that they would appear in the coming weeks.

You brushed your fingers against the leaves. They were the size of your palm now. You could see little bug bites dotting them. Perhaps you should ask Marie if there were any pesticides on hand.

It was the evening hours now, though the sun had been in the sky until a few moments ago. Neuvillette should be back by now. Maybe he had a lot of work today? You couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. You had been looking forward to showing him the buds.

It had been a week since the date. Neuvillette had sent the photos out to be developed, and you would be getting them today. You were a bit excited to see them. I don’t think I’ve ever taken so many pictures in my life.

After you finished taking the last measurements, you returned to the house and went up to your room. Your eyes automatically went to the plump azure flower tucked into a vase on your desk. It brought a vibrant splash of color to your elegant but sparse room, and you liked looking at it. It gave you a sense of pleasure. You wondered where Neuvillette put his flower.

I wonder if it would deflate like a balloon if I stuck a pin into the middle, you thought as you sniffed the flower’s cool fragrance. That would make it easier to press, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps it was because you talked about pressing flowers on the date, but it had been on your mind lately. Your fingers itched for your old flower press, sitting in your closet back home. The lily would look striking against a white page. If only you picked some of those wildflowers you had seen on Erinnyes and in Merusea Village... they could serve as accompaniment to the lily, which would obviously be the centerpiece, and a strand of blue leaves from the Weeping Willow could be the finishing touch, forming a wreath that framed everything neatly. It would be a beautiful memento of one of the most magical days in your life.

We picnicked together and took pictures of each other; he showed me all sorts of sights…he even held me in his arms…and I cried in front of him… Gah…

You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands. The memories of what you said and done still mortified you a week later. It had been even worse when you got home and was left alone in your bedroom. How you got to sleep that night, you didn’t know.

You would rather take a dive into the sea than cry in front of people, especially someone like Neuvillette. But on the other hand, if you had to cry, you would rather it be in front of him. Not your parents, not even your sister, but him. You weren’t sure why.

Neuvillette hadn’t said anything comforting or encouraging, and his hug was honestly a bit stiff and awkward, like he wasn’t used to doing such things. And yet, you felt as though the weight on your shoulders had been lightened just a bit. It wasn’t until then that you realized how you were barely holding yourself up by sheer force of will, like a sunflower with shallow roots and a too-heavy head, on the verge of falling over without a support.

Neuvillette never brought up that moment again, for which you were grateful. Although, even now you still couldn’t really look at him without a tingling sensation in your heart. He, on the other hand, seemed unchanged. Well, of course he would be. It would be problematic if he did start treating me differently, you told yourself.

You knew very well that you were not the type of person who people like Neuvillette would think of as a romantic partner, much less a wife. But still, after what you had observed of him and what you heard from the Melusines, you thought that it’d be nice if he did have someone like that. After the divorce, Furina would no doubt start pestering him even harder to find a spouse. It would be smart for him to start finding someone soon. He would probably have to wait a bit before remarrying, though.

Neuvillette should definitely find someone who’s more of a romantic than me, you laughed at yourself.

Unfortunately, you were out of your depth when it came to matters of matchmaking. But still, maybe you could keep an eye out for a potential partner. What was Neuvillette’s type, anyways? That would make for an interesting topic to investigate.

You decided to put this thought aside for now. Neuvillette told you that he wanted to take you to a restaurant next time. You had no idea where he would take you. His taste in food was so peculiar, after all. But you were sure that it would be a high-class, excellent restaurant, wherever it was. You would have to get some suitable clothes for the occasion. I want to make a better effort next time.

Neuvillette had given you a quite frankly exorbitant amount of spending money. Maybe it was finally time to use it.

Perhaps it’s a bit pointless…but I still want to do it.

You sat in your window seat, daydreaming about how your second “date” with Neuvillette would go as you gazed at the setting sun, now peeking out of the clouds after the sudden spell of rain had passed.

Neuvillette finally returned home by the time the sky was dark. You had already eaten dinner without him and was reading in the parlor when you heard the front door open.

“Neuvillette,” you called out to him as you went into the foyer. “You came home so late. Did something happen?”

As you approached him, you noticed how tired and tense he looked. But the fatigue in his face seemed to vanish as he fixed his eyes on you, replaced by something that was almost like relief.

“Madame,” he greeted you. “My apologies for worrying you. I had a rather busy day. I hope you’ve already eaten dinner?”

“I have. But have you eaten? If not, I can warm up the leftovers for you, or I can ask Marie to cook something fresh if that’s what you prefer.”

“I’ve already eaten, but thank you for the consideration. Have you gone out today?”

“No,” you shook your head, and Neuvillette visibly relaxed. You definitely didn’t imagine that.

But before any suspicions could form, he spoke again.

“Madame, I have a surprise for you,” he took a pause there. It took you a moment to realize that he was doing it for dramatic effect. So even he has that side to him...how cute, you thought, trying to hide your smile. “I received the developed photos today.”

He took out an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to you. “They turned out quite well, I must say,” he added.

The envelope was thick and heavy. You must have taken more than a hundred photos.

You decided to look through them in the parlor. Neuvillette followed you, and the two of you sat side by side on the couch as you spread the photos out on the coffee table. He was right, they did turn out well. You had been a bit worried that they might come out blurry or at odd angles, but overall, they all looked pretty good, considering the fact that you hadn’t used a Kamera in a long time.

“You have a very good eye for photography, Madame,” Neuvillette remarked as he picked up a photo of the Weeping Willow. “Have you considered pursuing a career in that field?”

“Oh, not at all. My old drawing teacher was much better at it than me, enough to make a living out of it, and she taught me a few tricks.”

“‘Was’? Do you mean...” Neuvillette trailed off.

“Yes. It was a few years ago.”

“Ah...I see. I'm sorry to hear that.”

There was a brief, awkward silence. Neuvillette looked as though he wanted to say something more. You would rather not deal with that, so your eyes roamed around the scattered photos on the table until they landed on something silver. “Oh, my pictures of you!” you said, leaning forward to grab them. “See, what did I tell you, Neuvillette. There’s nothing more picturesque than beautiful scenery and a handsome man.”

Neuvillette leaned closer towards you to examine the photos for himself. His hair brushed against your shoulder, and you could feel the heat of his body against your arm. A thought suddenly struck you. If you turned your head right now, your lips would brush against his cheek in the same spot where you had kissed it before.

Inexplicably, your face turned warm at the thought. The back of your hand tingled.

Perhaps things didn’t quite remain the same after the date.

It truly had been a spur of the moment move. Your roiling emotions, aided by the instigation of the Melusines, had pushed you to do it.

Later that night, as you laid in bed, your mind replaying that scene over and over to an infuriating degree, you had rifled through all the emotions you had felt at that time. Embarrassment, disbelief, a strange sort of elation…

But the one emotion that had been missing no matter how hard you searched for it, was regret.

Overt acts of affection had never been your forte, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Well, cheek kisses don’t inherently mean anything significant, you had told yourself. Friends do it with each other all the time. And Neuvillette is my friend. A very dear friend. So it’s perfectly fine. Case closed.

Indeed, Neuvillette didn’t seem to look at you or treat you any differently after the fact, so why should you? No doubt he was used to receiving such acts of intimacy—most likely even more intimate—from people who were far more glamorous than you. A brief brush of lips against his cheek probably meant nothing to him.

As for the hand kiss, well, that was something that gentlemen like him did. It also didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

The thought that these kisses were all meaningless did sting a little bit, but considering the circumstances, you had no right to complain.

“I must confess that I do not see what makes these pictures any better than the ones you took of the scenery,” Neuvillette’s voice interrupted your thoughts. His eyes were fixed on the photo, so thankfully he didn’t notice your reddened cheeks. “Or of the Melusines, for that matter.”

“Well, even if you don’t appreciate them, I do. I’ll treat them like a family treasure.”

“A family treasure? That’s a bit excessive, is it not?”

“I don’t think so. These are pretty rare items, aren’t they?”

Since Neuvillette didn’t appear in public much, there were not many pictures of him outside of the rare interview and official events. Hmm, I wonder how much they’ll sell for? Not that I would ever do that, of course. …Well, maybe if I’m in dire financial straits. I’ll ask for Neuvillette’s permission beforehand if it ever comes to that.

You went through the remaining photos. Each one sparked a memory. The Weeping Willow, the sea, Merusea Village underwater—you really had been to all those places. With Neuvillette, no less. The entirety of that day was only known to the two of you.

The days after your date had been so mundane and normal that you were half-convinced that it had all been a strange dream. Thoughts and memories were such mutable things, after all. Someone like you on a date with the Chief Justice? Not even in your wildest delusions would something like that ever happen. But these pictures were proof that it did.

You knew that you would probably think back on that day for the rest of your life, holding it close to your chest like a treasured gemstone and taking it out whenever times got tough. A sparkling memory of your youth that you would smile back fondly upon in your autumn years, a lone glimmering star in the dark that would inspire you move forward…

Wait, why am I getting so sappy and sentimental? Just because of a date? Ugh, come on now.

You glanced at Neuvillette, who was currently enjoying a glass of water (imported from Inazuma). You doubted that he felt the same way as you about the date. It was probably just like a drop of water in a vast ocean to him.

That thought pricked at you, but you chose to ignore it.

You sifted through the pictures until you came across a certain snapshot. Just as you were about to flip it over, a gloved finger pressed down against the photo, stopping you.

“This one is my favorite,” Neuvillette said. Once again, his face was right next to yours, but you couldn’t read his expression.

“Because you were the one who took it?”

“No,” he said, then turned his head towards you. “Because it’s of you.”

“Neuvillette…” you said after a short silence. You fidgeted with your reddened fingertips. “I don’t understand how you can say things like that with such a straight face.”

“Is it truly so strange?” Neuvillette looked perplexed. “I was simply saying my true feelings. And it is not as though you have refrained from such comments either.”

“You do have a point,” you conceded, although that still didn’t mean it didn’t catch you off guard. You turned your attention back to the photo of you. To be honest, it didn’t turn out half bad. Sure, you looked incredibly stiff and awkward and your hair was a mess and you had no idea what you were thinking when you matched that sweater with that skirt, but…it could have turned out worse.

“May I keep this photo?” Neuvillette asked.

“Of course, but what will you do with it? Surely you aren’t going to put it on your office desk or anything, right?”

“No, of course not. I would put it in a drawer, so I may take it out and look at it whenever I like.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Is it so wrong for a husband to want to look at a picture of his wife every once in a while? Many of the Palais staff also keep pictures of their loved ones on their desks. Why shouldn’t I?” Neuvillette paused for a little bit before adding, “And it would be one way for me to see your face more often, considering how I don’t get many chances of that during the day.”

“Hmm…very well, then,” you didn’t quite get why he would want to see more of your face, but if it made him happy, then you supposed there was nothing to complain about. Neuvillette is actually quite good at this kind of thing, you thought to yourself. Just imagine what he would be like when he gets married to someone he loves.

Now you really felt bad about your (hypothetical) future plans about selling Neuvillette’s photos. I’m an insensitive boor compared to him.

You reached the last of the photos. It was the one of you and Neuvillette standing in front of the sunset.

“You made two copies for the both of us,” you said as you looked at them. “How thoughtful.”

As you gazed at the pictures, you couldn’t help but feel a complex mixture of emotions. There was a surrealness to this photo that the others lacked. If this were a novel, this would be the point where you would wake up and return to reality after discovering something out of place in your life. No matter how you looked at it, you and Neuvillette were mismatched. Two people who were only brought together because of a weird quirk of fate.

But on the other hand…it was a beautiful photo. You had been somewhat worried that the two of you wouldn’t be centered in the frame, but it turned out well. The sunset made for a lovely backdrop. Even though both of you were looking very stiff, and neither of you were smiling.

You remembered that moment clearly. In those few minutes, you felt as light as a feather, like there was nothing tying you to the ground.

Would you ever feel that way again?

“I’m also very fond of this one,” Neuvillette said next to you. When you turned your head, you saw that he was not looking at the photos, but at you. It was then that you realized you were smiling. For some reason, you turned your head away.

“I just realized something,” you said, to cover up the awkward moment. “I’ve taken so many pictures, but I’ve got nowhere to put them all.”

“Ah, about that,” there was an excitement, subdued but present, in his voice. He sounded the same as he did when he introduced you to some new exotic variety of water. “I have a surprise for you. Please, come with me to my study.”

A surprise from Neuvillette? You had an inkling as to what it could be, but that didn’t stop you from putting all the photos back in the envelope and following him upstairs to his study, a domain you had yet to step into. It was a smaller version of his office at the Palais Mermonia, with its large desk, soft rugs, and tall bookshelves that lined the walls. There was also a fireplace here and a cozy-looking couch.��

As Neuvillette went to take something out of a cabinet, you covertly examined the shelves. They were mainly filled with books on law, human psychology, history (most of which you’ve already read, having borrowed them from the library), and other similarly serious topics. Oddly enough, you even spotted a few romance novels. They were the fluffy, self-indulgent kind that your mother and sister liked to read. Should I pretend I never saw them?

“Madame, here it is,” Neuvillette said, and you walked over to the desk, where there was a large, leather-bound album with metal corners.

“Oh, Neuvillette, you shouldn’t have!” you exclaimed, flipping through the album. There should be just enough space to put all the pictures from your date in it. You looked up to thank him, but was met with the sight of Neuvillette taking out yet another album from the cabinet. This one was wider, with a ribbon tied into a neat bow on the spine. Perhaps Neuvillette bought a second album, just in case the first one wouldn’t fit all your pictures?

But, as though to dash all reasonable explanations, Neuvillette took out another album from the cabinet, then another. It seemed never-ending, this deluge of albums. After a while, it became sort of funny, like a comedy sketch. You watched, open-mouthed, as the desk became covered with albums of all shapes and sizes.

Finally, after the tenth one, the deluge stopped. Neuvillette looked at you expectantly. “Well, Madame, which one do you prefer?”

“Wait a minute, let me get this right,” you said, backing up a step and surveying the desk. “You bought all these albums just for me to choose one?”

“Yes, I did,” Neuvillette said, nodding as though this was a perfectly normal thing to do. Was this how the minds of the wealthy worked? It was beyond your comprehension. “I was unsure which one would be most to your liking, so I decided to buy them all.”

“Oh, Neuvillette, you really shouldn’t have…” you said. “This is too excessive. Why didn’t you ask me to come with you when you went shopping? And you know I’d like anything you picked out for me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise…” Neuvillette said. He looked a bit deflated, and you felt bad.

“Can you return them?”

“It would be highly inconvenient for the shopkeeper if I did so,” Neuvillette said, then added in an abashed tone, “And I was told that all sales are final.”

“How unfortunate,” you looked down at the desk again. Was it possible for anyone to fill up all these albums in their lifetime? Maybe if they had a lifespan as long as Neuvillette’s. “Maybe they could make an exception for the Iudex?”

“I would rather not use my position in such a manner.”

“Well then, how about we give them away?”

“Give them away…” Neuvillette considered your words. “I-I suppose that could work… it is a reasonable idea. Yes, quite reasonable indeed.”

Neuvillette…if only you could see the look on your face right now. He looked like a kicked puppy. However, you decided to hold your tongue.

“Hmm, on second thought, it would be quite rude of me to give away presents from my generous husband,” you said. “I’ll keep them all. Thank you, Neuvillette.”

You patted his hand. He looked down at your hand on top of his, his eyes unreadable. He lightly brushed his fingers against your own.

“You need not force yourself to accept them if you do not want them,” he said quietly.

“But I do want them. They’re from you, after all. We’ll just have to take plenty more photos to get your money’s worth.”

“‘We?’”

“Yes, ‘we.’ Did you expect me to fill up these albums all on my own?”

“Certainly, it would be more efficient if we worked together,” Neuvillette nodded to himself. “Very well, then, Madame. I will assist you in this endeavour.”

With that settled, you decided to put the date photos in the first brown leather album. It had a vintage look to it that you liked.

“It’s getting late, Madame. You should be going to bed soon,” Neuvillette informed you.

“What about you?” Neuvillette didn’t seem to be making any moves to retire for the night just yet.

“There are a few more matters that I need to take care of, but do not worry, it won’t take very long.”

“Okay then,” you nodded, stepping towards the door. But just as you were about to leave the study, you thought of something. “By the way, Neuvillette, when will we be going on that restaurant date? I know you’re quite busy these days, so I can wait as long it takes. Do you have a restaurant in mind? I’m perfectly happy to go with any one you choose. Oh, and I know I promised to attend a trial, but I’m not fond of the very loud and chaotic ones, so which of the upcoming ones would you recommend?”

“I’m afraid, Madame, that we have to put a hold on both of those arrangements. A few…unexpected matters have come up, so we will not be able to go anywhere together for a while.”

“Oh. I see. Well, I suppose it can’t be helped,” a sharp sense of disappointment pierced your heart. It seemed that you had been looking forward to it more than you expected.

“Madame, are you enjoying your life as it is right now?” Neuvillette asked you out of the blue.

“Huh? What brought this on all of a sudden?”

“Please answer my question.” There was an undercurrent of urgency in his voice.

“I…” you had to think about it for a moment. “I do. Of course I do. I never want for anything, and everyone has treated me with nothing but kindness. I can’t even begin to repay them all, really.”

“I see. Then, is this the sort of life you’d prefer to live?”

“What do you mean?”

“A quiet, peaceful life, where you are never bothered by anyone.”

“I…suppose so? I think most people would want that.”

“I see…” Neuvillette stared at his desk, seemingly deep in thought. Then, he looked up at you. “You should go to bed now. It is getting too late.”

“What…” but he was already ushering you towards the door before you could say anything more.

You observed him as he stood in the doorway. He was an unreadable cipher, but you sensed a resolve emanating from him, like he had made up his mind about something.

“Good night, Madame,” he said quietly.

“Good night, Neuvillette.”

You felt like you had to say something, but you weren’t sure what.

He saved you the effort by gently closing the study door on you. The sense of giddiness had all but completely dissipated. You felt like a deflated balloon.

Your unease wasn’t dispelled the next morning.

At the breakfast table, Neuvillette was reading the newspapers. This wasn’t unusual in itself. It was part of his morning routine. What was unusual was how intensely he was looking through them.

You looked at the headlines of the paper he was reading. There was nothing there that would warrant that deep furrow in his brow. At least, not to your knowledge. Perhaps there was some sort of secret investigation going on?

“Madame, would you like to read the paper?” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts. It was then that you realized that you had been leaning forward and squinting your eyes to read the newspaper print. “I’m nearly done with it.”

“Oh, no, I was just wondering if something happened, since you seem to be engrossed in them.”

“No,” Neuvillette took a pause before replying. “I was simply looking for something.”

“I see,” you said, then cut a piece of pancake and popped it into your mouth. After swallowing, you continued, “Is it work related?”

“I…would not say so,” Neuvillette said. It was strange for him to be so evasive, but maybe it was one of those things he wasn’t at liberty to tell you.

“By the way, Neuvillette, I’m going to start on the albums today. You’ve given me a great burden to carry, but I’m willing to take it on.”

You were teasing him a bit, but in truth, you were a bit excited. Your teacher had a whole shelf of albums that were filled with photos from her travels throughout Teyvat, and you had pleasant memories of flipping through them and asking her the stories behind each photo. Of course, you wouldn’t be able to replicate her on that scale, but the Court of Fontaine was as good a start as any. You had even thought up a sort of system as to which area you would cover each day and what you would photograph, which you explained to Neuvillette.

“You plan on going out into the city today, Madame?” Neuvillette asked after you finished speaking. He put down the papers and stared at you.

“Er, yes?” you answered hesitantly. He seemed strangely preoccupied with your answer. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“…No, not at all,” Neuvillette said after another pause. His lips were pressed together in a thin line. “Where do you plan to go?”

“Just the plaza…” you said, raising your eyebrows at how grave he sounded. “And maybe the Palais.”

“Do not go to the Palais,” Neuvillette spoke abruptly. His face was all seriousness. “Please, promise me that. If you have any business there, ask me. I will assist you with it.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “What do you mean, I can’t go to the Palais? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” he said quickly.

“Then why can’t I go there?”

“I cannot tell you, but I assure you that I only have your safety and happiness in mind when I am asking you to not to go anywhere near the Palais. Please, Madame, promise me this.”

You stared into his violet eyes, trying to gauge what he was thinking. There was a note of desperate urgency in his voice you had only heard once before, not to mention the weightiness of his words. “I promise,” you found yourself saying.

“Thank you, Madame,” Neuvillette was visibly relieved. His shoulders relaxed and he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again.

“Neuvillette, what’s going on?” you demanded. “You’re acting strange. Did something happen?”

“Do not worry. I will take care of everything,” he said, not answering your questions at all. He stood up, and you did the same, intending on getting to the bottom of this.

The two of you headed to the door. “You’re hiding something,” you said, glaring up at him. He met your gaze, then looked away. “It has something to do with me, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll take care of it. Please don’t worry,” he repeated, then attempted a smile. “Focus on your photography project. I cannot to wait to see the finished product. And…Madame, if you see any suspicious persons lingering around you, you must tell one of the Melusines right away.”

“Huh?” you gape at him, but he simply bid you goodbye and left the house. You watched him get into the carriage and set off.

For such a stoic man, he’s actually quite terrible at hiding his feelings at times, you thought.

Your outing at the plaza went mostly as planned. You were able to take many pictures of the fountain, the hulking Meka walking around, and the street performers. The patrolling Melusines, once you told them what you were doing, became quite enthusiastic and asked for you to take their pictures as well. It would have been a great day, if it weren’t for the gray skies and the heaviness of your heart.

Neuvillette’s behavior at home did nothing to quell it. Though he did his best to hide it, but he was obviously stressed and worn out. He would eagerly ask you about your day but seemed distracted by his thoughts as you talked, and rebuffed your questions, whether they were innocuous or direct, when you tried to probe him for answers. He came home later than usual and worked into the late nights in his study.

Over the next few days, you continued your urban outings, criss-crossing the city to take more pictures. You ate lunch outside and people-watched as you sat at your table. Often, a Melusine would join you. Being able to spend time in such a carefree, leisurely way would have been an unattainable dream to the past you, but you couldn’t enjoy it fully, not when you were always worried about Neuvillette at the back of your mind. He definitely seems more haggard these days. Is he eating well? I hope he isn’t just drinking water and passing that off as having lunch.

“Are you not hungry, Madame?” a sleepy-sounding voice broke through your reverie. It belonged to Menthe, who was sitting across from you. “You’re not eating your fish and chips.”

You looked down. The savory dish, deep-fried to a golden brown, was one of your favorite treats, but not something you ate often, and yet you found yourself with zero appetite.

“I suppose I’m not,” you sighed. “You can have it if you like.”

“Oh, really, Madame? Thank you!”

You watched as Menthe happily dug in. She had accompanied you to this café after you decided to take a lunch break.

I wonder if the Melusines are in on this too, you thought. It wasn’t unusual for Melusines to come up to you when you were walking around town, but you couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be an awful lot of them at the places you went to. The places where you told Neuvillette you would be.

They were as cheerful and talkative as ever, but you also noticed how intently their bright gazes flitted around, even when they chatted with you, almost as though they were on the lookout for something.

You considered several possibilities and narrowed it down to two: One, there was a serial killer on the loose, or some other crazed criminal, who was after you. Two, your relationship had somehow been exposed to the paparazzi.

It was doubtful that Neuvillette would let you leave the house if there was a killer after you. And why would someone want to kill you, anyway? For marrying Neuvillette? What a lame reason for murder. Then again, some of his more extreme fans were known for their passion…

The second option seemed more likely. However, you had scoured all the tabloids for any articles on the matter, and while you did find some claiming that Neuvillette was involved with some woman or another, none of them were you (although you didn’t feel as relieved as you ought to have, for some reason). If you knew anything about these kinds of publications, it was that if they caught wind of something juicy, like the Chief Justice being in a secret relationship, they would waste no time in making that their headline, no matter how flimsy the evidence was.

Thinking back on it now, you and Neuvillette definitely hadn’t been as discreet as you could have been. The two of you had been in public together enough times that someone could get suspicious.

It would be easy to deny it though, you mused. In most of those cases, we were just talking or walking together. Just because a man and woman are together, it doesn’t mean they’re a married couple.

Whatever the case was, you wished Neuvillette would talk to you about it.

If it has something to do with me, then just tell me, you thought. You were now back home and staring up at the ceiling of your room. Why all the secrecy? It’s clearly stressing him out.

Sure, there was probably very little you could do to help, but…but…

Why are you acting so presumptuous? A small voice whispered in your mind. Didn’t Neuvillette say he would take care of everything? When will anyone ever offer to do that for you again?

Yeah, but… you argued back. I shouldn’t just sit back and do nothing! It’s unfair to him.

What does fairness mean in a relationship like this? What can you, a baron’s daughter, do for the Chief Justice of Fontaine that he can’t do for himself? If he doesn’t want you to know about something, it’s for your own good, just like last time. He clearly doesn’t expect you to do anything. What you can do to put him at ease is living your own life carefreely and supporting him at home.

But… you struggled to come up with an argument. Or maybe, you were unwilling to.

Your bed was nice and comfy, and your room was cozy. The sunlight streamed through the lace curtains of the window. If you wanted to, you could run a bath and soak in it for an hour, or read at your window seat, or ask Marie to make a snack for you. You could do anything you wanted.

You continued to lie on your bed until dinner time.

Neuvillette didn’t come home until very late at night. By that time, you were already in bed.

The next day was grayer than usual. It rained all day. As you were in no mood to undertake the challenge of photographing in the rain, you decided to stay home and brush up on your science. You had neglected your studies for far too long.

As you rifled through a notebook, you suddenly came upon a nearly blank page. It was titled “List of Neuvillette’s associates.”

You remembered writing those words all those months ago. It seemed like an eternity had passed since then. You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands again at the memories of your embarrassing behavior. It was a wonder that Neuvillette hadn’t changed his mind and married someone more well-adjusted after all that.

You glanced at the Lakelight Lily on your desk. It looked a little less plumper than before, but its refreshing scent was still there. You recalled Neuvillette’s words as he put in your hair.

He was always so considerate and thoughtful. What’s more, you could tell he genuinely meant it. He never failed to ask after your comfort and health. He even inquired about your family on a regular basis when he didn’t need to. He even accepted your awkward offer of friendship when he could have just ignored you.

You still had no idea what possessed him to ask you to marry him. He probably would have had an easier time if he had picked anyone else. No, not just anyone. Whoever he married should be just as kind and caring as him. Someone accomplished and beautiful. Someone who he could proudly show off in public as his spouse. Someone who could teach him the “joys of matrimony.”

But until he finds that mythical someone, he’s stuck with me.

Resolve formed in your heart.

Neuvillette came home late again that night, but this time, you stayed up. You listened to his footsteps as he went down the hallway to his study. After you heard the door close, you sat up in bed.

Okay, let’s do this, you cheered yourself on, then put on your robe and slipped out of your room.

You padded down the carpeted floor towards the study. You found yourself walking on your tiptoes for some reason.

The mahogany door seemed to you like an imposing barrier. It wasn’t too late to turn around and crawl back into bed. You were sorely tempted to.

But I’m here on a mission and I’m going to see it through no matter what, you told yourself firmly.

You raised your hand and knocked on the door. “Neuvillette,” you called out. “May I come in? I would like to speak with you.”

A scraping sound came from inside. “Madame?” Neuvillette said as he opened the door. “What are you doing up so late?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your jaw remained hanging open as you took in the sight before you.

Forearms. The words popped into your mind out of nowhere. Neck.

Neuvillette’s usual long blue robes were nowhere to be found. For that reason, he was only wearing a white dress shirt, and his hair was unbound. That wasn’t what made you speechless. You had seen him in that state plenty of times before. No, what stunned you was the fact that his sleeves were rolled up and that the first two buttons of his shirt were undone. Without his clothing obscuring them, you were able to feast your eyes on the sight of his sinewy arms and the smooth, unblemished skin at the juncture between his neck and collarbones.

He was usually so covered-up, even at home, that seeing so much of his skin exposed felt akin to seeing him naked. Oh no, don’t think about that, don’t think about that…

“Madame? Madame, is something the matter?” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts, which were heading in a rather dangerous direction. To your extreme embarrassment, you realized that your mouth was hanging open slightly. No wonder he looked so concerned. I feel like a giant pervert. No, I am one!

“Um, er…it’s nothing!” your voice came out in a higher octave. You took a step backwards. This is just wonderful.

“Are you sure? Your face looks a bit red,” Neuvillette stood up. “You shouldn’t be staying up so late, especially if you might be sick.”

“Oh, no, no, I assure you, I am definitely not sick, not at all,” you babbled, even as the words “forearms” and “neck” danced through your head. “I really just wanted to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

“If it’s urgent, then please come in,” Neuvillette gestured for you to enter his study. His shirt shifted slightly with the movement, exposing a sliver more of his chest. You wanted to cover your eyes.

You entered the study. Neuvillette sat back down in his chair and looked at you. You looked at him. Or rather, you looked at the air above him.

“Madame, what is this urgent matter you wish to discuss with me?” he asked. He looked terribly concerned, and you didn’t blame him. The way you were acting right now was definitely a cause for worry.

“I…um…want to…uh…you know…” you gestured with your hands. “I want to…brush your hair! Yes, brush your hair. I’ve noticed how…dishevelled it gets when you come home, so I would like to fix that. Yes, that’s it.”

“You…wish to brush my hair?” Neuvillette repeated, sounding confused.

You nodded vigorously. “And talk,” you added.

“I see,” he still looked confused, but he stood up and went to the door. “I shall go get my hairbrush, then.”

“Please do so,” you said, and watched him go to his room. Once he was gone, you buried your face in one of the pillows on the couch and screamed.

What was going on with you? Why were you getting so worked up over skin? It wasn’t as though you were some sheltered maiden who never saw shirtless men before. And Neuvillette wasn’t even shirtless! And just what would he look like without his shirt on, anyways?

“Stop it,” you told yourself. “Stop it right now. Think about something else.”

“Pardon me, Madame?” Neuvillette’s voice made you jolt upright. “Did you say something? And why are you lying on the couch?”

“It’s nothing,” you quickly got up and clasped your hands together, making yourself the picture of composure and self-possession, ignoring the voice in your head that told you it wasn’t too late to excuse yourself and run back to your room. “Please forget what you just saw. I am perfectly fine.”

You held out your hand for the hairbrush, and Neuvillette gave it to you after some hesitation. The hairbrush was silver, its back carved with a swirling design. It was heavy and cool in your hand. You tried to picture Neuvillette brushing his hair with it every morning, like a princess in a fairytale, and had to suppress a (most likely crazed-looking) smile.

He sat down in his chair, and you stood behind him. You slowly ran the brush through his silver locks, careful not to touch his horns. You did this in silence for a few moments. It had a strangely calming effect on you—you felt your heartbeat settling down, your mind becoming clearer. The fact that you couldn’t see his face was also helpful.

“Neuvillette,” you began. “I know that you’ve been hiding something from me. I would like you to reveal it to me.”

You heard him let out a sigh. He tried to turn his head, but you prevented him from doing so. “Madame, I have already explained to you that it is nothing for you to worry about. Please allow me to take care of it. It was caused by my own oversight in the first place.”

“I am allowing you to take care of it. But I would still like to know what it is.”

“It will only distress you, and I do not wish to do that.”

“I will be the judge of what distresses me. And besides, seeing you obviously so troubled by this matter already makes me feel wretched, so there is really nothing to lose here.”

“My apologies. I will work harder to mask my feelings as to not affect your mood.”

“Neuvillette, that’s not the point I’m making,” you groaned as you worked to loosen a particularly tough tangle in his hair. “Right now, not knowing what’s troubling you is causing me more distress than whatever this mysterious ‘something’ is.”

“I do not believe you would think the same way once you learned what it is.”

“How do you know that?” you asked. Realizing that you had raised your voice, you quickly softened it. “Let me put this another way. This is how I’m repaying you.”

“Repaying me?”

“Yes. For listening to me, for allowing me to cry into your arms on our date. Do you know, Neuvillette, that it’s been a long time since I was able to vent my feelings to someone like that? I’ve forgotten how nice it feels. It…really saved me. And I want to do the same thing for you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything, but it’s easier to come up with a solution when you’re discussing things with someone else, isn’t it?”

Neuvillette didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. But you could tell that he was wavering. You picked up the ends of his long hair and brushed them. You needed to give him one last push.

“If you don’t inform me about matters that are related to me, then I see no reason why I should tell you anything more about myself.”

“Madame, what are you implying?” there was a note of what almost sounded like panic in Neuvillette’s voice.

“That’s right. If you do not tell me your secret, I shall not speak to you ever again for the remainder of our marriage. You will lose the privilege of conversing with me.”

You had expected him to let out a chuckle or something. You hadn’t meant it seriously. Well, maybe a little. You were feeling a bit frustrated.

What you didn’t expect was that he would wrench himself out of your grip and turn around to face you. His lips were pressed together tightly, but his eyes were wide. His gaze burned through you.

“I will tell you,” he said, voice almost too calm. “So please reconsider. It will pain me greatly if you go through with it.”

“I won’t,” you said, caught off guard.

He turned back around. After taking a pause, he told you about the photo Furina obtained, and the ultimatum she gave him. You listened to him intently as he talked, brushing the bottom half of his hair and occasionally untangling snarls.

After he finished speaking, you took a few minutes to digest what you’ve just heard.

“So, no one else except Lady Furina has that photo?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t believe that she would lie or go back on her promise?”

“In this matter, I do not believe she would.”

“I see,” you put down the brush, then moved yourself to meet Neuvillette’s eyes. “Then, I agree to the meeting. I think that’s the most reasonable thing to do here. In hindsight, we should have done it a long time ago. It would have saved us all this trouble.”

“You agree to it?” Neuvillette repeated, sounding stunned.

“Well, it was either this or let Lady Furina dig up my sordid past and do whatever she wants with that information, right? Besides, what’s so scary about a meeting? Plenty of people from all walks of life have made appointments with her, including my own great-grandparents. If they could do it, so can I. And I’ll have you there with me, so there’s really nothing to worry about.”

“But once she meets you face-to-face, you will become known to her. You will not be able to live the peaceful life that you desire.”

Oh, so that’s why he asked that question, you thought.

“Well, we don’t know that, do we? For all we know, once she meets with us, she would judge that we are a perfectly uninteresting couple and leave us alone for the rest of the year.”

“That is unlikely to happen,” Neuvillette murmured. “And what if she discovers our arrangement?”

“She won’t if we don’t do anything that would reveal it to her. You know the saying, ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ As long as we don’t do anything that would make her want to go through the records in the license office, we should be fine.” A thought suddenly struck you. “She can’t…prevent us from divorcing, can she? Or force us to remarry?”

“There are no laws that grant her the powers to do those things. But, I expect that she could make life difficult for you, should she choose to do so.”

“Hmm…” you thought. “Well, I’ll just think about what to do when that time comes.”

“Madame,” Neuvillette rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t be so irresponsible about your own future. This is why I did not wish to tell you. I did not want you to push yourself needlessly for my sake.”

“Push myself needlessly? I see things differently. There’s no guarantee that things will go smoothly, but that’s just life, isn’t it? All I know is that if we don’t do anything, it will most likely turn out badly for us. So I would rather choose the other option.”

You sounded braver than you felt. In this cozy, quiet study with Neuvillette, where you were the only people who would ever know the words exchanged in this room, it was easy to feel self-assured and optimistic about the unknown. Perhaps this was also its own sort of danger.

But when you looked at Neuvillette’s worried face, you found it easier to feel brave.

“Neuvillette, do you remember the promise I made to you on that first night? I promised to make sure that your life is as inconvenienced as possible. This is how I’m trying to fulfill it. Will you allow me to do that?”

“You need not go that far. You have never inconvenienced me, not even now. In fact, you have been a reassurance. It was due to my folly that we got into this situation in the first place.”

“If it was your folly, then it was mine as well. I should have also been paying attention,” you let out a sigh. “Look, Neuvillette, we can go around in circles about this all night, but when you get down to it, it is for situations like these that you married me. You didn’t marry me because you liked me in that way. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true. If I don’t do my part, then I’m just a freeloader living in your house, right?”

“I have never thought of you as a ‘freeloader’… I have always considered you as my wife,” Neuvillette said curtly, but then he smiled at you gently. “You’ve made some very good points. You are correct. It was irresponsible of me to hide it from you. I still have much to learn when it comes to how a husband ought to behave, it seems.”

A warm, tingling feeling spread through your body when you heard his words. He thought of you as his wife. Well, of course he did, since you were officially married and all. But hearing him call you “my wife” was an entirely different thing.

“That’s my job, as your wife. To discuss problems and come up with solutions with you. And from now on, please tell me whenever you’re feeling troubled over something. I’m inadequate in many things, but I’ve been told that I’m a good listener,” you said, fiddling with your fingers. You felt your mouth stretching into a wide smile for no reason and looked down to hide it.

“I will. My apologies for all the distress I’ve caused you. I will tell Furina tomorrow about our decision.”

You and Neuvillette held each other’s gazes for longer than was necessary. In the dim light of the study, his eyes looked darker, obscuring his slitted pupils. You felt weak-kneed all of a sudden. You realized that you had been running on adrenaline until now, but you didn’t feel sleepy. In fact, you were wide awake.

“Will you go to bed now?” he asked. His voice was lower, huskier than usual.

You shook your head. “Will you?”

“I still have some work to do.”

“Then I’ll stay up with you. Since I’m your wife and all.”

Neuvillette looked like he was about to argue, but you went over to one of the bookshelves and took out a history book, then went to curl up on the couch. “Feel free to disregard me,” you said, opening the book.

After a few seconds, you heard an exhale, then the resuming of a pen scratching against paper.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but when you woke up, you were in your bed with the comforter neatly pulled up to your chin. You were quite sure you had a dream, but didn’t recall its contents except for the instinctive knowledge that it was a good one.

You also had the vague memory of feeling something warm brushing against your forehead, but it was so brief and fleeting that it might have been part of the dream as well.

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Taglist:@just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims, @cielclassy, @the-mxs-of-many, @mxyarylla, @lynettezz, @rosedpetal, @blue-sapphire-ink

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x female reader #genshin fluff #the winding path of fate #my works

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 4 months

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1963 AC SHELBY COBRA

1963 AC SHELBY COBRA 4.7-LITRE MARK II ROADSTER REGISTRATION NO. OYM 28A CHASSIS NO. CSK2116 ENGINE NO. CSX2116

Footnotes

Rightly regarded as one of the all-time great classic sports cars, the muscular, fire-breathing Cobra succeeded in capturing the hearts of enthusiasts like few of its contemporaries. Only 1,000-or-so Cobras of all types were built between 1962 and 1967, but such was the model's enduring popularity that production was resumed in 1982 under the auspices of Brooklands-based Autokraft.

Convinced that a market existed for an inexpensive sports car combining European chassis engineering and American V8 power, Le Mans-winning Texan racing driver Carroll Shelby concocted an unlikely alliance between AC Cars and the Ford Motor Company. The former's Ace provided the simple twin-tube chassis frame - designed by John Tojeiro - into which was persuaded one of Ford's lightweight, small-block V8s. It was discovered that the latter was lighter than the six-cylinder Ford Zephyr unit that AC was using, yet with vastly greater potential. To cope with the projected power increase, the Ace chassis was strengthened with heavier gauge tubing and supplied fitted with four-wheel disc brakes. Weighing a mere 1.5cwt more than a Bristol-engined Ace yet endowed with double the power and torque, the Cobra turned in a breathtaking performance, racing to 60mph in 4.4 seconds and reaching the 'ton' in under 12, exceptional figures by early 1960s standards and none too shabby even today.

The 260ci (4.2-litre) prototype first ran in January 1962, with production commencing later that year. Exclusively for the USA initially, Cobras - minus engines - were sent from England to be finished off by Shelby in California, and it was not until late in 1963 that AC Cars in Thames Ditton got around to building the first fully finished cars to European specification.

After 75 Cobras had been built with the 260ci engine, the more powerful 289ci (4.7-litre) unit was standardised in 1963. Rack-and-pinion steering was the major MkII up-date; then in 1965 a new, stronger, coil-suspended MkIII chassis was introduced to accommodate Ford's 427ci (7.0-litre) V8, an engine that in race trim was capable of producing well in excess of 400bhp. Wider bodywork, extended wheelarch flares and a bigger radiator intake combined to create the definitive - and much copied - Cobra MkIII look. Keeping ahead of the competition on the racetrack had been the spur behind Shelby's adoption of the 427 engine, but some MkIIIs to 'street' specification came with Ford's less powerful 428ci hydraulic-lifter V8.

But for Brian Angliss, the Cobra story would have ended in 1967. The Autokraft boss had built up a business restoring Cobras and supplying parts, and in the early 1980s acquired the rights to the AC name plus a quantity of jigs and tooling from the old Thames Ditton factory. Keeping the overall style of the MkIII, Autokraft produced the MkIV, which was appropriately updated to meet current legislation and powered by a 'Federalised' Ford 5.0-litre V8 engine. Around 480 were built.

Chassis number 'CSX2116' was invoiced to Shelby American on 16th April 1963 and shipped to Los Angeles three days later aboard the 'SS Loch Gowan'. Invoiced on 18th June 1963 to Burton Motors of Sacramento, California, the Cobra was sold new to a local doctor who used it for a few years before giving it to his daughter. She used the car as daily transport for several years before the clutch failed, at which time it was sold to Steve Dangremond of Santa Rosa, California. The Cobra was advertised for sale by Mr Dangremond in late 1977 and bought by Dr Grant Hill of Chotoka, Alberta. Dr Hill fitted Weber carburettors and raced 'CSX2116', eventually trading it to Fred Yule in Portland, Oregon. At that time, the car was still finished in its original colour scheme of dark blue and retained its original black leather interior.

'CSX2116' returned to the UK in the late 1980s and was advertised through Hampson's Ltd, by which time it had been refinished in red and fitted with a full-width roll bar. Subsequent owners in England were Dr Carlos Barbot, Trojan boss Peter Agg and Formula 1 racing driver Rupert Keegan. 'CSX2116' was last restored in 1988, records on file indicating that an extensive mechanical restoration was undertaken at this time. The car still retains its original black leather interior though the Weber carburettors have gone, replaced by an easier to maintain four-barrel Holley. There is considerable additional accompanying documentation including correspondence between previous owners, a copy of the original bill of sale, Shelby American Automobile Club letter of authentication, FIA papers and Swansea V5 registration document. The car has belonged to the current owner since 2006. Early Cobras are offered for sale only rarely and this example represents a wonderful opportunity to acquire a fine example of this classic of Anglo-American sports car design.

#AC SHELBY COBRA #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #ford #shelby cobra #shelby

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steamberrystudio · 4 months

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31/12/2023 Devlog

Hey everyone! Time for the bi-weekly tumblr update for Steamberry stuff! Except I skipped one because I can't remember why.

I half-wrote it but I think I just wasn't feeling up to finishing and posting.

I haven't been doing extremely well health-wise lately but still powering through.

Summary

Finished writing Chapter 5.5 (the new chapter in WSC)

Finished editing Chapters 6, 7, and 8 of Asher's path

Finished all the profiles for the GS lore book

Have started wrapping up the "side stories" and additional content for the GS lore book

Ramble

Okay so in my last update I was in the middle of editing chapter 5 and was nearly to the start of chapter six in editing Asher's route. I finished up chapter 5...

At that point when I was looking ahead, I started feeling like I wanted to add in a transition scene to move between Chapter 5 and Chapter 6.

As I started plotting out this scene, one of my ideas took on a life of its own and I realised that it might be better to interject a new, fleshed out story incident that would allow me to slow the pacing as well as flesh out the setting and universe a little more. This incident would also let me tie into some earlier events and connect them to something that occurs in chapter 6, also foreshadowing the chapter 6 incident.

Ultimately, this became too much to call a "scene" and I decided to branch it off into a supplementary chapter (IE a chapter a bit shorter than the others and meant to be released along with another chapter.)

Then that chapter ended up being 30,000 words.

So that happened.

After finishing that I went on to finish editing chapters 6, 7, and 8. I am currently on chapter 9. I only have a few more chapters before I'm finished editing Asher's path. As always, during my edits, one of the main things I do is flesh things out.

So obviously the word count has grown from that (and, you know, the 30k extra chapter I invented).

Currently the word count is 468,000 words.

Other Stuff:

I have received several new BGs and a new BG sketch. BGs are continuing to come in at a fairly steady pace.

I now have all the BGs for The Ophelia and the artists are working on other locations finally. OwO

I've also been, here and there, doing small tweaks to the sprites, small additions and fixes.

Gilded Shadows:

As I mentioned, I finally got through all the character profiles. There are so many more characters than I remembered in this game.

Then I got halfway through and realised that I forgot five. And had to insert them, which...meant rearranging pages, which is a pain in the butt. However, that is now complete.

What I'm working on now is finishing up some of the short stories and drabbles I have planned or partially written out and getting them into the lore book.

As well as gathering any other content. The lore book is currently about 350 pages. And I am really hoping to wrap it up soon.

Upcoming Weeks:

Next couple of weeks I will be trying to wrap up the lore book and wrap up editing Asher's Path.

When I finish editing Asher's path I'll be moving on to finish drafting the end sequences for the four remaining characters. I'm starting to have an idea of where the word count is going to end up but will have a better idea for sure when Asher's edit is complete.

I have written over 100,000 words since mid-August, just plugging away and trying to hit at least 1000 words a day.

I hit my year end word count goal of 466,000 words for When Stars Collide but unfortunately did not finish the draft because the draft has grown in size.

But I am really hoping to finish it early next year so we can fully move into phase 2 of When Stars Collide.

I am also hoping to get the final KS stuff resolved for Gilded Shadows early next year as well (the lore book, art book, and some residual art and stuff).

For now, I shall just keep plucking away at it until it's all done.

And that is all for now. I will see you all next year.

#gilded shadows #whenstarscollide #amare game #indie otome game #updates #devlog

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veenus777 · 3 months

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◜𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐖𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐭 ◞

┊ ᝰ﹕Characters : Dad! Jason Todd x Vigilant! Reader

┊ ᝰ﹕Summary : My first Todd FamilyVerse post and I'm really excited about it, the following posts will follow the results of the poll previously posted here on my profile. I'm going to consider this a chapter so it will tell about how Y/N and Jason met and it will be divided into two parts, this is the first of them, I hope you like it <3

┊ ᝰ﹕Word Count : 527

┊ ᝰ﹕Theme : a little angst, difficult childhood and "mention" of death

During her 12 long years of life, Y/N knew only one reality: that of an assassin, molded into this destiny since the age of 12 when she became a hired killer and a small pet for the black mask, living on the crime alley streets, surviving on stolen wallets and leftover food. Then, they appeared, her mothers, the most functional dysfunctional family Y/N had ever known, the only family she had. Despite being crazy, thieves, and ecoterrorists, they cared for her as a daughter, despite the circumstances. Being raised by the sirens of Gotham had its advantages.

Some children, greatly admiring their parents, dream of following in their footsteps, and with Y/N, there was no difference, except that her steps would lead to becoming an internationally wanted thief at the age of seventeen. Well, let's say Batman didn't approve of the paths her life was taking and always kept a watchful eye on her actions. Despite this, things were going well until she met him.

He was 5'5, with the bluest eyes she had ever seen and an impulsive and cheeky personality. They hated each other, not because they were enemies, but because they were so alike. It all started with a confrontation while Catwoman was once again robbing Gotham's museum. Y/N, better known as Copycat, was the great distraction. Batman knew Selina's moves well enough to let Robin go in his place, and then they met and fought. It would be an understatement to say that Robin took only a small beating. Since then, they hated each other for every minute after that, but despite denying it to death, they enjoyed it, the hatred, the fights, and the provocations. They counted the minutes to meet again, always claiming that the reason was revenge.

By some twist of fate or just his irony, Y/N was there, sitting on the edge of some Gotham gargoyle. It wasn't a good day; in fact, it was the complete opposite. And then, suddenly, he's there behind her, the green and red uniform a bit stained, and a paper bag in his hands. She knew he was there, but she didn't even have the energy to start a fight or provoke. Somehow, he knew that. So, he just sat there in silence, opening the bag and taking something out, surprising Y/N with a sandwich. She initially refused, but he just ignored it and left the sandwich in her hands until she gave up and just surrendered, taking a few bites. They remained seated in silence with the sounds of Gotham's night in the background. What was supposed to be a rare event began to happen frequently until one day, silence was replaced by single words, and then sentences, and finally, deep conversations where they lost themselves in time.

They were alike, children with difficult and traumatic pasts adopted by people of questionable psychological character. They both knew what it was like to fight for survival and the difficulties they had faced. Thus, they went from enemies to friends and then to something more. They knew and trusted each other despite the masks and codenames.

But things wouldn't be good forever. On that night, he didn't show up, so Y/N decided to look for him. He was on top of Wayne Enterprises, but that wasn't the same Robin she knew. He was different, agitated, and anxious. He told her about his fight with Batman and his plan to go after the Joker. She tried to stop him, but it was too late; he was determined. She tried to convince him, but the voices got louder and more disturbed. Tears flowed down her domino mask as she turned her back on him and walked away. The next day, she wanted to resolve things and apologize. She went to the gargoyle, their place, and sat there, waiting. But hours turned into days, days into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years, but he never came back.

.˚｡ 💋 .˚｡ 💌

#imagine #headcanons #fanfic #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood #the outlaws #batfam #dc titans #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #dceu #Spotify

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markrosewater · 11 months

Note

Happy birthday! Can we get some birthday trivia about you on your birthday?

Sure. I turn 56 today, so here’s fifty-six things you may or may not know about me.

1) I never lost a baby tooth. Every one had to be extracted.

2) I was once a contestant on Trivial Pursuit: The Game Show with Wink Martindale. I answered the most questions correct, but didn’t win.

3) I once had scarlet fever (the thing the boy gets in the Velveteen Rabbit).

4) I’ve been told by doctors I have very weird blood.

5) I self taught myself to juggle.

6) I was a magician when I was a kid with the stage name The Wiz Kid. I mostly performed for kids parties.

7) I was once a freelance greeting card writer. My favorite (that didn’t get printed) showed a jug of maple syrup tipped on its side making a puddle of syrup. In the syrup was a top hat. A hand is pulling a can of green paint with a shamrock out of the hat. You open up the card and it says Sappy Paint Hat Tricks Day. It’s a triple Spoonerism.

8) Sara Gilbert (of “Roseanne” fame) and I once went out for lunch. (It wasn’t a date or anything.)

9) I broke my collarbone doing a prat fall off a stage.

10) I once pet a cheetah. In South Africa. My face from the picture of me doing that was used as my “Making Magic” photo for years.

11) I once made a root beer float for Keanu Reeves. It was at a play I was volunteering for.

12) I once get trapped inside Fred Astaire’s Estate. This factoid is oddly on my Wikipedia page.

13) Starting during the pandemic, my family began fostering animals. So far, we fostered four dogs, six cats, and two Guinea pigs.

14) In college, I wrote and directed two plays, started an improvisation troupe, and a writing workshop.

15) I still have all my wisdom teeth.

16) I have visited every continent except Antarctica for Magic.

17) I once asked Clint Eastwood for directions, not realizing who it was until he started talking. I was lost on the Warner Brothers lot.

18) My first job in Hollywood resulted from me taking part in someone else’s interview. I snuck on the lot, and ended walking into a room where they asked “Are you here for the production assistant interview?”, and I said, “Yes.”

19) I once had a disease the doctors couldn’t identify. They called it Mark’s Disease.

20) I was born in Mississippi. My dad was in the Air Force at the time.

21) I asked out seven woman to my senior prom who all turned me down. I ended up going with a friend who also couldn’t get a date.

22) I took six years of Spanish.

23) Most of my family’s vacations growing up were ski vacations, so I’m a decent skier.

24) I once delivered a pizza to Richard Gere. It was as a production assistant, not a pizza delivery person.

25) I once broke into an actor’s apartment building to deliver a script. It was so late, they were asleep and didn’t hear the buzzing of the door bell.

26) I once drove six hours (three in each direction) to pick up one five-stick package of Blackjack gum as a runner (production assistant).

27) Dennis Miller once thought I was a crazy man. I was sent to get him from the parking lot for a shoot and he thought I was stalking him.

28) I have over two hundred tee-shirts. They are organized by color.

29) I was supposed to pitch to “The Simpsons”, but it got cancelled when I got hired in the “Roseanne” staff.

30) I pitched multiple times to “Star Trek: The Next Generation”, but never sold a script. The closest I got was a pitch about Data malfunctioning.

31) I once ate crocodile. In Australia.

32) I played the Tinman in fifth grade in a production of “The Wizard of the Oz”. I was so hot, my silver make-up had to be reapplied halfway through as I sweated it off.

33) My mother turned down being on “Oprah” to come to my college graduation.

34) My parents are both retired. My dad was a dentist and my mom a psychologist. I used to joke I had a “paradox”.

35) Every birthday since I was 9, I’ve celebrated my birthday with crab legs.

36) Since I was in grade school, every Valentine’s Day, I hand out candy hearts, and every Halloween, I hand out mellowcreme pumpkins (basically pumpkin shaped candy corns).

37) My tee-shirts every week are themed. Some themes are pretty obvious, but they often get tricky. R&D likes figuring out the theme.

38) I got a BS in Communications (no, really) from Boston University’s College of Communications.

39) I collect superhero Minimates (they look Lego-ish). I have somewhere around two thousand. They are displayed in a number of cabinets built by my dad.

40) My podcast was inspired by a talk by Kevin Smith (at San Diego Comic-Con) where he said anyone could make a podcast.

41) I have attended over twenty-five San Diego Comic-Cons.

42) I am related to Lorne Green of “Bonanza” fame.

43) My dad’s family came from Germany and my mom’s from Russia. In Germany, my family’s name was Rosenvasser, but it was changed to Rosewater when they came to the U.S.

44) There are so few Rosewaters in the United States, that if you meet a Rosewater odds are I’m related to them.

45) I have lived in five states (Mississippi, Ohio, Massachusetts, California, and Washington, in that order).

46) I have visited over thirty states for Magic.

47) I once met Jim Henson when I worked on a clip show that Kermit was on. The question I asked him was if Ernie and Bert were named after the characters from “It’s a Wonderful Life”. He said not consciously. Jim Henson is one of my idols and I feel so blessed to have met him. He died a few months later.

48) I met Stan Lee at Hascon. He is another of my idols that I feel so lucky to have met.

49) On “Roseanne”, I worked with Amy Sherman-Palladino (just Amy Sherman back then) and Chuck Lorre. She made “Gilmore Girls” and “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”. He made “Big Bang Theory” and “Two and a Half Men”. Amy was super sweet and we got along well. I don’t think Chuck liked me.

50) I am a super picky eater. For example, except for apples, I don’t eat fruit. I hate bananas with a passion.

51) I have been a game player since very young. My dad loves games and introduced them to me early in life.

52) I get the writing bug from my mom.

53) I used to collect lint in a giant jar. When I got married, Lora made me get rid of it. It was an impressive amount of lint.

54) I have a bad tendency to burn myself a lot. My family loves to make fun of it.

55) I own over fifty flannels. My favorites are from Japan because they are more colorful with their flannels. Normally I wear a large, but in Japanese sizes, I’m an extra large.

56) My favorite number is 254. I chose it when I was little.

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