#the 'a week disconnected' thing. again. was a long time ago. it would take over a month for him to stand nowadays.) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnamonest · 3 months

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Beleaguer

"Failed escape attempt" yandere series - Diluc

WARNINGS: dark content, fem reader, noncon, captivity, belting/spanking, manhandling, humiliation, darling has a somewhat defined personality, hair pulling, implied forced impregnation at the end, forced fem/housewifization + thinly veiled if not wholly unveiled misogyny, swearing, there's a lot going on here and none of it is holy

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‘Fill cap to line. Causes intense drowsiness and loss of motor function within 5-10 minutes. Soluble. Do not operate heavy machinery if taken within the last 24 hours.’

You blinked a few times, focusing your vision. Your mind could be deceiving you, after all. But when you looked again, the vial in your hand read the same words as it did moments before.

You'd merely gone to set the oil back into the cabinet when the force of pushing one knocked over another further within, coming across the bottle in the very back in the process of fixing the mishap.

You grasped it firmly in your hand, merely blinking in disbelief as you read over the words again and again.

“Oh my God.”

You spoke aloud to yourself, standing alone in the spacious kitchen, the words slipping out on their own in a low whisper.

Daily life as you now lived it brought a sort of mind-numbing stillness to it. Life was repetitive and uneventful. You woke at the same time, performed the same mindless tasks, the same chores, the same interactions. You said hello and good morning to the same maids every morning (you'd lost the willpower to continue being cold to the staff a long time ago), you came down and went through the same routine, wore the same clothes, had the same conversations.

The only thing that ever changed was a few different foods on rotation from week to week and the names and faces of the strangers that came in and out of the lower rooms - although they were all one and the same to you, their attitudes and the way they treated you and looked at you was as though each was the same individual with merely a different face.

And consequently, you'd reached a state of numbness, you went through the tasks mechanically, without thinking, perhaps intentionally shutting down your mind to make acceptance easier. Disconnected, unreal, everything melted together and the days and the people were all one long continuous sequence of occurrences.

It was easier that way. Resisting brought anger, frustration, tears, misery. Allowing the numbness to take over allowed some escape from the reality itself.

Which was likely why reading the words themselves felt like a shockwave through your body, as if suddenly the world regained its colors, you could feel your heart beating and your lungs fill with air. Like a sharp and sudden awakening from an endless, empty, dreamless sleep.

You felt a sudden wave of shame immediately following the shock, chastising yourself for even allowing that numbness to take over, like you might have felt angry with yourself in the past for oversleeping or spacing out and missing something important.

You recognized the handwritten label stuck to the bottle, having gone to the same place for something or another in the past — the alchemist’s lab in the city. That essentially meant it had to be highly effective.

Not only that — the fact that the seal was broken and about a third of the liquid gone, would mean it was very likely the same substance used on you more than once. If so, “drowsiness” was an understatement — it would knock you out cold for hours at a time.

You heard yourself breathing in ragged, quick breaths, you stumbled and steadied yourself against the counter, looking up and around you, suddenly aware of the world around you, everything felt real. The emotions came flooding back — humiliation, resentment, fury.

This was a way out. A miracle.

In your sudden awakening, your mind, sprung back to function, as if the wheels were once again turning, took only a mere minute to formulate a plan. It wasn't really difficult at all — in fact, there was perhaps not a single moment more perfect for you to have stumbled across this opportunity. You were, after all, just about to fill glasses, the final step in your meal preparation.

You set the vial down and ran over to the other cabinet — wiping your hands on your apron to rid them of any residue from cooking — and opened it up, swiping a bottle of juice and returning to the center of the kitchen. The corners of your mouth pulled upwards beyond your control into a grin as you went about the process.

Have a taste of your own medicine, bastard.

You smirked even wider, practically beaming as you popped a tablet out of the packaging, dropping it into one of the glasses. It made a fizzing sound as it grew smaller and smaller, and you watched with wide eyes as it disappeared. Just to be certain, you bent your head down and gave it a sniff, but there was no distinguishable smell or color that would give it away.

And you were certain that, if this was in fact the same drug that you'd consumed, there was nothing about it that tasted unusual.

And once it was complete, for yet another moment you merely stood, staring, grinning and trembling, processing this sudden turn of events. It would be easy, right? The sun was already about to set, the staff were no longer in the fields except for a few security guards that patrolled here or there. It would be easy to spot and avoid them.

You just had to get Diluc to drink this, wait for him to pass out, and run, right? Sure, traversing the road barefoot might be difficult, but that would probably be the extent of your hardships, provided you could get out.

Get out, get on the road, make a straight shot for Mondstadt, go straight to the knights and tell them everything that had happened to you. Maybe you could steal one of the horses they kept for plowing to make your getaway. Your chest burned at the thought of getting your revenge — no, your justice. You deserved this, you deserved freedom — and he deserved whatever consequences would come his way.

…No. You realized, albeit with frustration, that getting revenge wasn't really an option. He had power and money, and you knew all too well how good such people were at evading consequences.

You would just have to run. Staying in Mondstadt certainly wasn't an option. You'd just go… somewhere. Specifics didn't matter as long as you got away from here.

And sure, you'd made a few attempts to get out before, quickly foiled and harshly punished. But you'd never had an advantage like this before. He couldn't chase you down if he was out cold.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm down. It would all be over soon.

You finally managed to wipe the mischievous grin off your face. You knew you couldn't afford risking him getting suspicious if you were too outwardly giddy. Instead, you tried to maintain only a small smile, the numb, dopey smile you'd trained yourself to wear. Nonetheless, you shook your head and settled the plates and glasses onto a tray, carrying them out to the little table that sat tucked away in an alcove in the hallway connecting the main hall to the kitchen. He preferred to eat here when it was just the two of you, with plain cups and plates, rather than the massive dining room with all its ornate tableware — that was only for formal occasions, you'd discovered, whereas this was out of sight from the constantly-bustling staff.

You set the food and drink out — careful to be mindful of which cup was which — then stood, returned the tray to the kitchen, then the vial to the cabinet and, with a spring in your step, turned and made your way down the hall.

You were careful to make sure everything was as it was supposed to be. Straightened your posture, ran your hands down the front of the dress to smooth it out.

You began the short journey from the kitchen to the study, footsteps light and soft, short steps that slowed your pace. No heavy steps that thumped against the hardwood, no letting your weight fall onto each foot all at once, and no slouching. Nor any other such improper, inappropriate behaviors.

It really was a beautiful building, though, so you thought to yourself as you glanced up at the ornate windows. You'd been here before, on your own volition, back long ago, of your own volition. You'd walked by it plenty of times, and once or twice had taken a moment to stroll around the vineyard, figuring it would do no harm, as you were never noticed.

Now, it was a sort of beautiful prison, such an elegant architecture for such a suffocating place.

Upon reaching one particular door, you raised a hand up and gave a gentle knock. A voice came from behind the door.

"Mm?"

You took another deep breath, calming yourself down, trying to mentally switch the ‘on’ button for your sweet obedient wife act you hoped you had mastered well enough by now, complete with an upward shift in octave and sing-song-y touch to your voice. "It's me."

You heard a chair scoot backwards, heavy footsteps, and the door opened. "...Hey." A hand rested on your head. "Food ready?"

"Yes sir." You gave a soft smile.

"That's good... thanks." He patted your head, and seemed to stifle a yawn. His voice was drained, nearly a mumble.

"Are you ok?" You tried your best to make your voice sound soft and concerned, furrowing your eyebrows in a way you hoped looked worried, pushing your lower lip out a bit.

"Just tired. Lots of work today. I'll just eat and then we'll go to sleep."

Oh yes, you will.

Fighting the urge to grin, you slowly made your way back together down the hall — remembering to keep your footsteps light, forcing a sort of soft, feminine gracefulness to your manner of walking, lest you be reminded to do so.

Every little second, every step, every word was practiced and poised. Now, having reawakened to your resentment and defiance, just acting it out made you feel sick.

There was, nonetheless, a residual sense of dread, a nagging pit in your stomach that went deeper than the surface-level nervousness.

There was a major disadvantage — this would not be the first time you tried something like this. Granted, not with this particular substance, but you had once managed to make him horribly sick for well over a day with rat poison, and once again with liquid pesticide meant for the vineyard. Both incidents were purely for the purpose of amusement and spite, which you’d reveled in despite the unfortunate consequences you’d suffered.

The first time, he'd been totally unsuspecting, and the second time he'd been too distracted and busy to notice anything even if you had let something slip. You could curse yourself now in hindsight — if you hadn't committed those first two offenses out of sheer spite, you'd be able to pull this off much more easily. But now, he’d learned you would do something like that, and if the slightest thing was wrong in the taste or appearance of it, he'd get suspicious immediately. You weren't even sure if a single sip was enough to do anything, considering how diluted the substance now was. You’d just have to hope he’d drink the whole thing.

You did your best to make idle conversation as you walked, talking about whatever you did that day, as if it was ever any different from any other day. Your nerves felt electrified, your body tense and stiff as you sat back down and took a bite of this and that, trying to contain your anticipation, trying to look at him out of the corner of your eye rather than directly. He didn't say much, but that wasn't abnormal, only slowly taking in bites of this and that. It felt like an eternity of waiting.

Come on, get thirsty, drink it...

Finally, his hand reached out to the juice. You felt your breath hitch.

Come on, come on!

You stopped moving, anxiously waiting for him to drink.

So caught up in your excitement that you didn't realize you were letting it show on your face, that you had ceased your own motions to stop and stare intently.

It took him stopping and looking up at you with confusion in his expression, for you to feel a spike of panic as you realized the mistake.

"...Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Hm?" You immediately tried to correct the behavior, going back to cutting at something on your plate with a smile, hoping the way you stiffened wasn't visible. "Sorry, I just… I spaced out a second, what did you say?"

He was silent for a moment.

"...Nothing."

Ok. Good save.

You popped a bite of food into your mouth. Besides, despite being an overall intelligent man, he had a tendency to be rather dense sometimes, surely he wouldn't pick up on something like that.

You were fine for now— what is he doing.

You noticed an odd look spread across his features, eyebrows furrowed a bit, as if thinking something through.

Then, he stood up, glass in one hand, and grabbed yours with the other. He swapped your drinks and sat back down, looking up at you with a neutral, cold stare.

Oh.

His gaze didn't falter. He set his elbows on the table, and rested his head on interlocked fingers. "Is there a problem?"

Oh no.

"N-no, I was just... why did you...?" You felt your body go cold, and try as you might not to, you knew panic must be showing on your face.

"It's the same thing, isn't it? So it's fine."

You couldn't miss the suspicious tone to his voice even if you'd tried to ignore it.

"...Right." You smiled, but you felt your lips tremble a bit. You could save this, for now, even if it didn't work out in your favor. You looked at the food, but you could still feel his gaze on you, so, hoping to pacify his suspicion, you brought the cup up to your mouth and tilted it as if you were drinking, closing your upper lip to the glass so that none of the juice actually got in your mouth. Then, after a moment, you pulled it away, swallowing to further the deceit.

He seemed satisfied by the action — right? It looked like he bought it, right? — and looked back down, resuming eating. There was a tense, awkward silence, so you attempted to fill in the empty space.

"D-did you, um, do anything fun today?"

"I wouldn't call anything I do 'fun,'" he muttered. "Just met with a bunch of people, one after the other... there's lots of business partnership contract renewals around this time of year, so they have to come here for that process."

"Mhm." You couldn't care less, but feigned interest. You knew Diluc well by this point, and knew how to appeal to the things that would soothe him the most. One of the most important factors in that was listening to whatever it was he had to say, no matter how boring (which, really, most things having to do with his work were). He liked to feel listened to, didn't have anyone else to go to, you supposed. Lots of stress, high expectations, and no solid support figure probably was the root of his psychological issues. — said issues were something you had spent a lot of time contemplating and trying to figure out in your spare time, given their now inherent effect on your own life.

But you presumed that most men without stress and some kind of serious issues generally did not go around abducting women they barely knew and forcing them to live in their homes. At least, not to your knowledge.

You had often wondered why someone like him wouldn't choose someone who was already that ideal, someone who already exemplified those traits… but as time went by you began to understand that that simply wasn't good enough.

That there was an allure to someone like you, to someone like him. That your very existence as you were on your own upset the man — you'd noticed that within the first few minutes of interacting with him, back when you first started coming to that damn bar you now wish you’d never set foot in. The displeased expression and dismissive tone at your vulgarity and defiance and aggression. You'd thought, back then, that the man disliked you —and he did, in a way.

But for someone who seemed to have such distaste for you, he sure did fail to ever leave you alone. There was some impulsive need to say something to you at some point in each encounter, as if he couldn't allow you to go about your night without at least one look of disdain or passive-aggressive comment. The only thing that seemed more irksome to him than your existence, was the fact that you always bit back, always said something in return, and thus your interactions had only fueled your and his disdain for each other further and further.

The mistake you'd made in your original assessment of him, that you’d slowly come to understand with time, was that he was not a person who simply avoided things he disliked, like most people — he was hellbent on fixing whatever irked him, remediating whatever was perceived as wrong.

You had not been an exception.

Now in the present, as you tried to focus on maintaining your calm act, he kept on talking about this or that. Some people who came by today, some guy who keeps trying to get him to sign some agreement he doesn't want to, this isn't a particularly good crop this season, but he's seen worse, blah blah, nothing you cared about.

You continued eating, which soon turned out to be a mistake — your throat was dry, food wasn't helping, and you desperately wanted something to drink, but you could do nothing but raise your glass up and pretend you were actually drinking your juice. You thought, for a moment, he seemed to look at the glass, and fear he realized the amount wasn't going down ran through your mind, but you tried to calm yourself. If you started imagining things in your paranoia, you'd only increase the chance of him noticing your panic.

There was obvious suspicion a few minutes ago, sure, but there had been plenty of times he had falsely suspected you of things in the past, and was generally willing to believe you once presented with contrary evidence, even once becoming, albeit reluctantly, apologetic when realizing you'd done nothing wrong.

Finally, although you were suppressing the urge to cough at the dry scratchiness of your throat, you finished eating, and, like you knew you were supposed to, stood with a forced little smile and grabbed your plate, extending a hand for him to give you his as well, and took them both back to the larger kitchen area through the open doorway, barely hearing his ‘thanks’ as you scurried off.

You set the plates down, immediately turning on a faucet and cupping water in your hand, before drinking it down to soothe your throat.

Alright, so things didn't turn out quite like you were hoping, but that was ok. There was plenty of the substance left. Just wait a few days, do it again, and control yourself better next time so as not to strike any suspicion. Easy.

The maids would take care of washing plates off, but you needed to dispose of the remainder of your drugging attempt just in case. There was only droplets of juice left in his, and, of course, yours was full. You washed his — well, originally yours — out first, running some water over it, thinking it would be odd if one was washed out and not the other, and you didn’t want to take any chances.

You heard him walk into the kitchen behind you, and unease creeped back up into your chest. But that wasn’t so bad, right? He’d think you were trying to help the staff out, and he’d think that was good, wouldn’t he?

You hummed a bit, and set his glass upside down in its proper place, reaching out to yours and preparing to pour it down the sink drain, when his hand latched around your wrist. You went stiff.

"You should finish it."

Any confidence that you had successfully eased his suspicions might as well have been poured down the drain as well.

"...Hm?" You forced a smile, albeit twitching. “O-oh, I just didn't... finish all of..." You were painfully aware that your voice trembled, and, in a last effort to appear like you weren't nervous, forced yourself to turn your head and look at him.

"You didn't drink it at all." His face was flat and cold, eyes ever so slightly narrowed, but his voice was dark, quiet, knowing. "It's good for you. Don't let it go to waste."

You couldn't argue that you didn't like it — it was the same thing you drank every single night. Nor could you confess why you didn't want to do so. Of course, drinking it was technically an option. You'd just pass out and be forced to deal with the consequences once you woke up — although the cynical part of your mind thought maybe passing out wouldn't be too bad right about now.

Now, the expression on his face grew darker, fully obvious as a look of accusation, and the tone that followed matched.

“Unless there's something wrong with it.”

Your mind scrambled, unable to think of a way out. Your smile widened and twitched, and your body shivered, trying and failing to force a look of happiness, but the crushing feeling of defeat was beginning to settle in. "I... ah, hah, I, um..."

His expression and voice didn't waver, in contrast to your cowering. Looking down on you with something like frustration, perhaps disappointment. There was the slightest edge of a quietness in it, as he continued, "If there is, then tell me."

The last two words came out firm. A command.

"I... I..." You swallowed, visibly shaking, no longer able to hide the fear on your features. You bit your lower lip, and, feeling your eyes burn, your resolve broke.

You hung your head, and replied in a quiet voice, wavering on the verge of tears.

"...I'm sorry."

He released your hand, but snatched the glass out from it, immediately dumping the mixture down the sink. You reached up, wiping away the watering in your eyes that were threatening to become tears.

"Where is it?"

You stiffened at the firmness in his voice. You tried your best to look up, questioning in a pathetic whimper. "...Hm?"

"The— I don't know, whatever you put in there. Where is it?" There was a rising frustration in his tone.

You hadn't thought about that part. Of course, how could you not realize he'd do that if he found out? There wouldn't be another opportunity to try again. That realization left a sting of despair in your chest, you chastised yourself for not saving a smaller portion hidden away. If you'd been smart, you would have prepared for this possible outcome, and saved some so that he would think he'd taken it all. Dammit.

For a moment, you were silent.

"Tell me."

You tensed up, biting your lip.

You were afraid, but it also made you angry. The commanding, authoritative tone, as if he owned you, as if he had any right to tell you what to do. There was a time where you would have responded to anyone who spoke in such a way to you with equal aggression, if not outright violence. Your pride swelled in your chest, digging its heels in at the thought of being obedient, sickened by the notion of giving in.

At your hesitation, he said your name.

It was a low tone, a clear warning in response to your defiant silence. You jolted, and scurried over to the other side of the kitchen, trying to bite your lip, hands trembling as you opened the cabinet and pulled out the container and turned around, hanging your head and standing stiff with fear and humiliation as he took it from your hand and read the front of the package.

He sighed, but as he did, some of the tension seemed to roll off his frame. "...Oh. That." He caught the confused expression you had at those words, and elaborated. "I thought it would be—” he cut off and took another heavy breath, whether out of exasperation or relief or both, you weren't sure. “I thought you were trying to poison me again… or kill me.”

"No," you shook your head rapidly. “I wouldn't… do that…” Granted, you may have very well have chosen take the chance if it was an option, but such honesty would be ill-advised when your current objective was to deescalate the situation you'd landed yourself in, and hopefully quell any further anger before it emerged.

Yes, this was practical, you told yourself — and more importantly, told your wounded sense of pride. You were just being practical, strategic.

Besides, the sedative was the only thing you had available, anyway… well, had had available, since it was now certainly going to be taken from you.

You stood perfectly still as he moved, pulling a key out of his pocket, mumbling something about how he had no idea how that even got there, as he unlocked what you had come to refer to in your mind as the "forbidden" cabinet — where all the various dangerous things lay, such as knives, skewers, rat poison (moved there after the previous incident), bleach even.

You were aware that he and all the staff members possessed a key, as you'd sometimes catch maids or other workers accessing it for various purposes, so you assumed it was there solely to keep those things out of your reach. It had started out as a few knives, but the collection had slowly built over time due to your creativity with what remained at your disposal.

“And here you were actually starting to improve,” he mumbled. The words were heavily laden with exhaustion, frustration.

You clenched your fists. The words crawled under your skin, bothered you viscerally, knowing there was truth to them. Thinking back, over the past few weeks, you'd become more complacent and behaved than you'd ever been prior — part of it had been an act, sure, but a creeping dense of paranoia made you wonder if you’d been settling into it, if it had been starting to become natural. You rejected the thought, insisting otherwise to both him and yourself.

“That's— that's only because I've been here so long… you're wrong…”

Even though the words were spoken weakly, the mere act of disagreement was not within the boundaries of complacency and acceptable behavior. It was not normal for your good wife act. The defiance was slowly bubbling up to the surface, and you could tell from the way you say you saw his jaw visibly clench, that he noticed that as much as you did.

He narrowed his eyes as he turned his head towards you, before shaking his head and returning to putting the offending substance away. He was moving some of the things around to make space for the new object, placing it inside before locking the doors shut again, back turned to you.

But then, there was only more silence as he reached up to rub at the side of his temple with one of his hands.

You hoped for the best, that perhaps the lack of murderous intent on your part would serve to significantly lessen his anger, or that due to contrast, he would view trying to sedate him as a petty offense. Trivial. Overlookable.

“But why would you even want to knock me out…?” He trailed off, looking to the ground in pensiveness. And then, the worst thing you feared happened — the exact intent seemed to click with him.

Your gaze cast to the floor, you could just see him move out of the corner of your eye, walking back towards you, but in fear, you couldn't bring yourself to look up. You saw his feet facing yours as you looked down, and a shadow cast over your hanging head. He was standing right in front of you, and, perhaps out of pride, or perhaps accepting it was inevitable anyway, you forced yourself to look up, eye-to-eye, his own narrowed with disdain.

“…You were going to put me to sleep so you could run off again.”

You stiffened. “No,” you immediately rushed to your own defense. “I just—”

“Yes, you were. Don't—” he huffed, finishing his sentence with gritted teeth, “don't lie to me.”

“I'm not!” Your words that time came out more angry than fearful, your own frustration with everything beginning to balance our your fear.

“I just said—” he cut his words short and took a deep breath, reaching up to rest his face in his hand in a gesture of exasperation. His next words were not as intensely angered, more of a tired frustration laden in them. “You really never learn, do you.”

The words, simple as they were, had a strong effect.

Your fear and anger dwelled in your heart in a state of coexistence — you’d been tamed enough that avoiding pain and consequence was your usual priority, with the anger, the inherent defiance in your spirit, taking a secondary place. But with the right choice of words, the right circumstances, that same defiant spirit that he so very much hated, that he worked so hard to erase, would come bouncing back. A routine you’d been through more than once by now.

That same spirit of defiance had slowly been rising, had been your whole reason for your attempt, but with that, the switch flipped. Your hands balled into fists at your side.

“Learn what?!” Your voice came out louder than before. “Goddammit, I—”

The irritation on his features grew. “Don't raise your voice. And for the millionth time, watch your mouth.”

“I'll do what I want!” You leaned your upper body forward in exertion. “You’re the one that never lets me go anywhere! I wouldn't have done it if you didn't keep me locked up like an animal!”

His head snapped up fully at your voice, eyes narrowing into a glare.

“Don't get an attitude with me.”

Your eye twitched. That was one of your many rules that you so despised, the one you were most frequently found guilty of violating. Commands you were held to for no other reason than the desires of someone else, a projection of an ideal you were so brutally forced to conform to. Don't raise your voice, don't get a bad attitude, don't walk so loud, don't slouch, don't curse, don't make that face, don't talk back. The “don't” commands were bad enough, but the expectation of the inverse, the image you had to conform to, was even worse. To be nice, to sit there and smile and do whatever was instructed without so much as a complaint. Those were the good traits that you were supposed to have, that you were to be instilled with — as if a wild animal to be caught and domesticated.

A dam holding back your emotions seemed to break. You finally raised you voice fully, nearly yelling.

“It's your fault for making me stay in here in the first place, you bastard!” You snarled. “You keep acting like this is normal and it's not! You kidnapped me, dammit! You're mad at me for breaking your stupid rules when you're the one committing a fucking crime!”

You were speaking with such forceful anger you leaned forward with the exertion, panting heavy breaths, hands curled into fists. Your fury reached a peak, throwing aside all regard for whatever line your next words may cross.

"And you know what? I don't belong to you, I'm not your — I'm not anyone's goddamn dainty little fucking housewife! I don’t have to listen to a damn word you say, you bastard, you—”

You hesitated to finish your sentence, about to deliver another onslaught of curses, but stopped short when you tilted your gaze up, and your eyes met.

His eyes narrowed, staring at you with something like abject disgust, irritation, exasperation, but the silence was what amplified your dread the most. A single second of heavy, tense quiet passed, and then you saw him reach down to his waist, grasping at the front of his belt and unfastening it before pulling the other end, rapidly pulling the whole thing out of the loops.

“Come here.”

A very firmly-spoken command. Your stomach felt as if it flipped over on itself, a sudden cold feeling across your flesh, a learned response. You took a step back, drawing your hands up to your chest in a defensive reflex.

You hesitated, feet spread apart as if to move, but in what direction you weren't certain. Your eyes darted to the left and right, and froze as your gaze settled on the arch leading to the hallway.

Which he must have noticed, given the look he shot you. His voice grew quieter, more foreboding. “Don’t you dare run. Come here. Now.”

You had not yet fucked up quite this badly before, not done something to this magnitude — poisoned him, yes, and had outbursts, yes, but never back-to-back, the offenses stacking on top of each other. That outburst just then was the most vicious one you'd had since you woke up here, and you would be given far less lenience now than then. The thoughts of past punishments for even mild transgressions crossed through your mind. The blood drained from your face, your heartrate picked up faster.

It was stupid, really. So, so stupid, so futile, and had you really thought about it, you would know how pointless it was. But in the moment, you weren't operating so much on reason, so much as the dread in your gut and instinct.

For that reason, you turned in the opposite direction, bolted through the door to the hall, and took off running.

"Wh—” You heard the sound in his throat cut off as you bolted, clearly taken aback by the choice of action, but soon followed by a throaty groan of frustration you could hear all too well.

You didn't even really know where you were going. Nor what you planned to accomplish. The building was large, there were plenty of hallways to run down and turns to take — you turned left at the end of the room, then took and immediate right, unable to remember the structure enough to coordinate any plan of action as to where to run, just following the need to run away.

The doors were always locked from the inside and out now, one set of locks to keep intruders out and the other to keep you in. Breaking glass windows was a risk you didn't want to take, and it would alert anyone nearby to your location immediately and would only serve to greatly increase any potential consequence. Thus, for the time being, perhaps you were looking more for a place to hide. Maybe if you could just do that, find a place to cower and wait out the brunt of his anger, he would calm down by the time you came out.

Well, really, you knew that probably wasn’t doable, but it was nice to at least think for a moment.

And a moment was all you got.

You hesitated as you reached a spot where the hall split into two different corridors, and that one moment of hesitation was enough to close the gap between you. You squealed and flailed as a hand forcefully grabbed at your hair, pulling you back.

“Ow!” You squirmed, the balls of your bare feet thumping on the hardwood as they stumbled to regain your balance. “Let—let me go! Ow, ow, that hurts—”

“Hold still.” The command was firm, a foreboding voice that made your heart race.

The fabric around your torso pulled taut against your skin as he took a fistful of the back side of it, other arm harshly wrapping around your waist before you felt your weight lift upward, feet leaving the ground.

You thrashed, but even doing so to the best of your ability had no effect. His grip didn’t budge.

You grunted as you were effectively slung over his shoulder. He started moving forward, footsteps heavy and frustrated. “Gh!” You squirmed, flailed, all to no avail.

Your resistance began to falter in realization of the futility of fighting the now-inevitable, groaning in miserable anger and weakly bringing your clenched fists down on his back as you were, with seemingly little effort, carried down the hall, taking a turn and ascending up the staircase. It was only a short distance from the top to the bedroom door, which opened in a swift, furious motion, likewise slamming shut behind you.

You grunted as you were thrown down onto the mattress. You put your hands down and pushed yourself upward, beginning to try and crawl away, but a hand caught you by the back of your shirt again, pushing your upper body down. You made a rough, irritated noise in the back of your throat as you squirmed, but soon your hands were pinned behind your back, leaving you face down with your hips in the air.

You inhaled a sharp gasp of air and stiffened when you felt the skirt end if the dress hike up, the waistband beneath pulled down, cool air on your bare flesh.

“Wait wait, no, I'm sorry—”

You instinctively jerked forward, squirming, heart beginning to pound in your chest. You had had enough experience to know that this was far more painful on bare skin, as if the humiliation ritual of it all wasn't bad enough.

You felt like a petulant child, begging and whimpering. You tried to move, but the hand pushing down and your knees being positioned right on the edge of the bed effectively forced you into holding the position, with no way to move.

“Then you should have thought about that before you decided to do what you did.” There was no trace of mercy or empathy in his voice. “This is entirely your fault.”

“But I—”

You cut off with a squeal, body lurching forward as sharp pain came down on the sensitive skin on your ass, the smacking sound echoing in your ears. Your jaw clenched, muscles tensing. He wasn't holding back either, one strike was enough to make your eyes begin to water.

“This wouldn't have to keep happening—”

Another strike on the enunciated word. You hissed a sharp breath through clenched teeth and groaned, hips reflexively jerking forward in an attempt to pull away, to no avail.

“—if you could just—”

Another strike. You winced and stiffened, groaning and straining your muscles pulling against the firm hold forcing you in place.

“—give it up—”

And yet another.

“—and learn to behave.”

Another and another and another, three in quick succession. You yelped and jolted at each, a miserable sound coming out of your throat. Unable to maintain enough pride to hold them back, tears streamed down your face.

“Stop, stop…” you whimpered. “It hurts…”

But the only reply you got was calloused and merciless.

“It’s supposed to.”

The next strike was harder than the previous ones. You squealed, taking deep, gasping breaths. Your legs trembled.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I won't do it again—”

“You said that last time.”

Your heart sank. You didn't have any reply other than to whimper in misery and anticipation, turning to a throaty cry of pain as you were struck again.

“It's for your own good. You would be happier if you just give in. But you insist—”

The leather came down hard. Your shoulders wracked with a sob, completely breaking the last of your resolve to hold back your reactions.

“—on being stubborn.”

The belt came down again, your body jolting and face contorting with the pain once more.

It was the final strike to drive you over the edge.

"I'm sorry!"

You couldn't speak further for a moment, having to take a few heaving gasps. Your shoulders jerked with a sob, sniffling, tears streaming down your face.

The only thing outweighing the stinging, striking pain itself was the tight feeling in your chest of humiliation and bitterness. It was intended as such, of course, to hurt not only your body, but your pride as well.

Your body trembled, heaving breaths and whimpers filling the following quiet. Perhaps your misery was finally deemed worthy of mercy, as despite your tensing in anticipation, no further sudden pain followed, only the lingering, hot sting on your bare flesh.

There was only a heavy sigh.

“Are you done being a brat?”

You sniffled, nodding your head against the sheets. “Mmhm…”

There was a momentary pause, perhaps giving you the opportunity to catch your mistake on your own. After you failed to do so within a few moments, the hand around your wrists tightened, a wordless threat. A brief panic surged through your mind, but you realized where you'd erred within a second.

Still, even though you opened your mouth, taking a breath to speak, some last little spark of stubborn pride flickered up, bitter and spiteful, and for a moment, you refused to give in to it, the one rule you so deeply resented more than any other.

And then he said your name — a foreboding, low tone, a warning.

Thus the brief moment of dignity was extinguished in a single word. You practically blubbered out the words, distorted by your sniffling and slurring.

“Y-yes sir…”

Finally, the grip on your wrists released.

“Good.”

You slumped forward, trembling hands reaching out to pull yourself further onto the bed before you went limp on your stomach and still, head spinning and exhaustion setting in as you came down from the high of the expense of so much energy and stress. As your head cleared, you became aware of the discomfort of wetness on your face, reaching up wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand. The sting was bad enough that you didn’t even bother pulling your clothes back into place to cover yourself, not wanting the fabric to brush against the now-sensitive skin.

There was a long moment of quiet. You weakly turned your head, seeing the pensive look on his face, eyebrows furrowed and looking at the ground. Something about it felt ominous, made your stomach shaft to churn.

“This keeps happening in a cycle,” he muttered, a low voice, almost as if speaking more to himself than you. “You start to improve, and then you regress again.”

Had you not been so utterly weary, not to mention bearing the lingering sting to your backside, you might have gotten defensive, snapped at him over referring to succumbing to the spiritual torment of your life as improvement. But now, spirit already broken as it could be for one day — at least, so you believed in that moment — you only closed your eyes, trying to ignore him. Maybe you could rest your body, at least a little, before the inevitable disturbance of a different form of exertion.

But when you squeezed your eyes shut, as always, the thoughts came rushing through your mind, emotions and recollections all at once, too intense for you to bear. Thinking through everything over again, your mistakes that led you to where you were now — not so much the events of the last hour, and more the grand scheme of things, how much you regretted ever making eye contact with him, or ever setting foot in that damn tavern.

Each and every day, you replayed the final conversation you two had had, sitting there in his own bar after everyone else had gone home, with you insisting on drinking more until you were content. After so much time — or perhaps due to the effect of the drugs, or the alcohol — you'd forgotten what the whole of the conversation was even about, only your response to one of those half-muttered comments about how this or that behavior of yours was unattractive, how you'd never get married if you kept it up, or any of the other things he said that irked you so.

You'd glared, snapping at him.

What makes you think you get to tell me what to do?

The only other thing you remembered — no, it was perfectly burned into your memory, crystal-clear despite your intoxication at the time — was the way he'd frozen, the look on his face when you'd said it, the glimpse you'd caught of it for a mere second. Slack-jawed, eyebrows furrowed, staring down at you with some amalgamation of disbelief, fury, and pure, unadulterated disgust.

Well, it wasn't the only thing you remembered — he'd walked away for a moment, you'd nearly drifted off in drunken haze, and something was shoved into your hands, you drank it without question (like an idiot, you often reprimanded yourself) and then, the next memory was waking up in his bed.

It played over, and over, and over, as you lay there shivering, cold and exhausted. As much as you resented him, you couldn’t help but feel enraged with yourself, each time you thought back to each interaction. That you didn’t recognize that something was wrong, that the degree of quiet malice he seemed to hold for you was unnatural, obsessive, dangerous. You’d just shrugged it off as just being his nature. Such an idiot, you thought to yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A heavy sigh pulled you out of your thoughts.

“…”

Whatever he was actually now thinking, though, he didn’t say aloud.

Instead, predictably, his hands grabbed at your thighs, pulling you back across the bed. The same familiar knot of dread began to twist in your chest again.

You groaned, a sound of combined exasperation, pain and exhaustion. Your voice came out weak. “N-no, don’t… it’ll hurt too much…” Despite your verbal protest, you couldn’t actually summon the will to do much more than a weak squirming with your body as the dress was pulled up. Your attempts to hold your arms down proved futile as they were easily grabbed and maneuvered to allow him to pull the clothing off entirely, throwing it onto the mattress.

“It’s not going to hurt you,” was his only reply, an assured and matter-of-fact tone, like it was an objective, predetermined truth that you were foolish to contest. His hands moved to your hips, pulling on them to pull you back into your prior positioning. “It only hurts because you don’t relax enough.”

You might have remarked that the two back-to-back statements were quite the contradiction, but in the moment you were too lost in a combination of daze and panic to be too sarcastic. The pull jolted your mind back into full clarity. You tried to push yourself up on your hands, but his hand pressed to your back again, holding you in place.

“Wait, wait—”

You cut off in a shrill wail, toes curling and legs kicking out reflexively as the sting of the stretch set in. Your back arched in a reactive attempt to get away from the sudden intrusion that felt like it was splitting you apart, cleaving your body in half.

"Just—just hold still," his grip on your wrists tightened as your hands attempted to jerk back. He moved one hand to the other, taking both your wrists in one hand so he could reach down to your hips with the other, grabbing at one with a bruising grip and holding you still in place before sliding out, then back in, a second time, then a third.

You gritted your teeth, tears forming in your eyes anew as your body tensed up. The friction burned, the stretch ached. "It hurts," you whimpered, speaking through your teeth gritted in pain. "You-you're tearing me apart..."

"Just relax. You’re too tense.”

“I can’t just—gh!”

His arm shifted from pressing you down to wrapping around your torso, pulling your upper body back up from behind, while also preventing you from pulling yourself forward, and instead pulling your body closer against his, bouncing you back and forth on his cock. Each movement brought your ass bouncing back against his hips, a harsh sting on still-sensitive flesh.

"A-ah, ah…” you clamped down on reflex, trembling hands reaching behind you to push him back, but you were so weak it did nothing. “Wait, wait…” Your words came out slurred and strained.

Suddenly, to your surprise, the movement actually stopped. There was a moment of pause, and for that moment, you actually believed maybe you were receiving whatever semblance of mercy the man was capable of.

You heard his heavy breathing in your ear, felt him let his head fall downward for a moment, as if in thought.

Then, his hands moved once more — this time, one grasping at your waist, forcing your back into an arch, the other reaching up, palm against your throat and his fingers curling to grasp your jaw.

“Fight me off.”

With that, he pulled back, and slammed forward again. You squealed, every muscle tensing and spasming at the ripples of sensation it sent through your nerves.

“What? I don't— what are you—”

Another harsh, slamming thrust cut you off.

“Remember what you said before? When you first came here?” His words were spoken in a low, dark tone, dripping with vengeful spite. His fingernails dug into the flesh of your face. “You told me you didn't need anyone.”

The hand on your hip tightened its grip as you pulled your hips forward, jerking you back as his own hips snapped forward, the motion ramming into you in full all the way down to the base, the flesh of your ass pressed up against his hip bones.

“You said you were strong, that you didn't need protection.” The grip tightened, painfully pressing down. “You said you could take care of yourself.” His fingers curled further into your skin. “Remember that?”

Even in such a flat tone, his voice felt utterly mocking. The defiance you'd thought he'd already drained from your spirit began to surge back up in full force, a burning rage filling your chest.

“If you're so strong,” he continued, words muddled with heavy panting breaths, bouncing you back and forth with increasing pace, “then you should have no problem—” he took another heavy breath, next words coming out as half-spoken, half-hissed through clenched teeth, “fighting me off.”

You stiffened, eye twitching, a rough throaty sound of fury coming from your mouth as you began to squirm, to no avail.

“Come on. Prove it.” His voice grew more intense, lower, harsher. “Push me off. Do it.”

You practically growled, an animalistic sound, savagely reaching up to claw at the hand gripping your jaw, pulling your body forward with all the strength you could muster.

But it was nothing by comparison. As if fueled by your resistance, he only slammed into you faster and harder. At that point, the fluids leaking from your body lubricated the movements, the pain ebbing away, replaced by a warm, tight sensation, pressing against the spots in your body that made you melt, the sheer stretch becoming pleasurable.

“Or maybe you're wrong.” He jerked your head back to the point that the side of your face touched his, his heavy panting warm against your ear. “Maybe you should accept that you're weak.”

The grip on your jaw caused his palm to dig into your throat, not enough to choke you fully, but enough to cause discomfort.

“You need someone to— you need me.” His head titled ever so slightly downward, his hair brushing against the back of your neck.

Trying to turn your head away proved futile, the iron grip keeping it just as firmly locked in place as your body.

“You're so naive. The weak are supposed to be self-aware.” He spoke through clenched teeth, intense anger seeping into his voice. “But you had to go and act so tough—”

A harsher thrust than any of the ones preceding it, so hard you gagged on air, unable to even scream.

“—and be so goddamn mouthy all the time.”

Your strained, animalistic noises continued, pulling your body forward with every single ounce of strength you were physically capable of.

You didn't move. It felt as if you were trying to pull yourself out of steel chains, pure futility. Your arms trembled with the strain, and yet you didn't budge.

“As if I couldn't just reach over and break you any time I felt like it.”

Your toes curled, muscles tensing in pleasure-pain, each movement ramming into a spot that sent sparks of pleasure up your spine, whilst also causing the flesh of your backside to slap against his hips, sending jolts of pain through your body all at once.

“As if any of those guys you were such a little bitch to couldn’t have done the same.”

Sweat coated your skin, running down your back. The bed creaked, violently slamming against the frame. He pulled you so close that your shoulder blades pressed to his chest.

“Do you have any idea how easy this is? I'm not even trying.”

The words felt like a knife to your chest. In the past, you'd been irritated by you inferior physical strength, but admittedly you hadn't stopped to really think more deeply about the matter of your inability to free yourself, in the bigger picture of things.

A heavy, cold feeling began to seep out of your heart, through your chest, into your blood. A dawning realization of your total powerlessness, of your weakness. It was harrowing, brutal, and unforgiving.

You took heavy, gasping breaths. The intensity of every sensation was too much, driving you to a brink of what felt like madness. The ache in your body, the chill in your blood, the pleasure and the sting and the despair.

Your resolve broke. You went limp, panting, eyes watering with bitterness and fury, hot tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes, weak voice coming out as a blubbering whimper, broken up by the incessant thrusts jerking your body back and forth.

“I-I’m, I'm so, sorr-eee…”

The only reply you got was a single word.

“Good.”

You closed your watery, burning eyes. If you couldn't escape in reality, you could at least escape in your mind, desperately trying to block out the thoughts and the shame and the bitterness, trying to focus on sensation, feeling, the way you trembled at the pleasure. The way the sharp sting and the heat of the pleasure began to blur together, the pain itself only intensifying the rising tight, warm feeling inside.

You threw your head back to rest against his chest, whimpering like an animal. Your hands now only weakly reached behind you, grasping at his torso, neither pulling nor pushing. Each movement grew move intense, somehow even harder and harder still, inhumanly fast, flesh slapping against flesh, the sound amplified by the slick and sweat that coated the skin where your bodies conjoined. Your body began to quiver.

The climax that came over you was not the strongest you'd ever had — your body was far too exhausted and pained to even summon such a thing — but the high shot through your body nonetheless, waves of intensity rushing throughout. You let out a long, high-pitched sound as it peaked and ebbed away, mind slipping into a state of nothingness, a fog so thick you might as well have been unconscious.

You barely felt the motions stop, the way you were lowered down to rest on your stomach. Your attention was only briefly pulled to the surface of your consciousness with the sudden sensation of emptiness, the way your insides spasmed to clench on empty space, the chill that set in as the sweat began to cool over your body, and finally the shifting of the mattress as weight settled onto the other side, sitting beside your limp form.

And then, as your consciousness swayed, one faint little thought kept you from slipping away.

Something was different. You were limp and numb from the stupor, mind lost in a haze, but a faint sense of alarm slowly drug your consciousness back to alertness. Something was different, something was wrong.

You shifted, muscles reflexively clamping down on the now-empty space, and stiffened as you felt something fluid ooze out of your slit, drooling down your flesh and onto your thigh.

“Did… did you… cum… inside me…?”

You turned towards the figure blurred by the residual tears and dizziness. You could make out him sitting there, the bright red hair and the flesh tone of his unclothed upper body, see him running his hand over the top of his head, pushing sweat-drenched strands of hair back.

Your stupor had left your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but they immediately snapped back fully open as the next words registered with your ears, spoken in a fully nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone.

“This will be good for you.”

You sat up — a movement that took effort, nearly falling back down on hands still trembling with aftershock, and looked up at him with panicked confusion plastered on your face. “…Huh… what?”

Now you could make out his eyes, looking into yours, continuing on in the same blunt voice, as if speaking of a trivial matter.

“…I was waiting. I thought it would be a bad idea to give you a kid before you showed some improvement.” After a moment of pause as he sat more upright, he continued, “But thinking about it, that could be part of the reason you're so badly behaved to begin with. You're… imbalanced or something.”

He held a hand out palm-up in a casual gesture.

“So, it will calm you down.”

You stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed in disbelief and horror.

“That's—” you twitched. Your voice was hoarse, each word hurt, as if dragging broken glass down your throat. “You're insane. You can't— you can't do this to me. I can't do that!”

“You're being overdramatic.”

“Overdramatic?!” You pushed the heels of your hands into the mattress to propel yourself backwards, crawling away from him as if it would do any good. “No, you don't understand, I… I can't…!”

Your breathing began to speed up, right alongside your heart rate. Panic consumed your train of thought. The implications of the very notion were, for you, world-ending — it would change everything, it would debilitate you and any hopes you had of ever leaving. Even beyond that, just the mere thought, the mental image the idea created, made you shudder.

You looked down. Between your legs, some of the cum had begun to ooze out onto the sheets.

Right, you could extract it all, to the best of your ability, and hope for the best. Your legs were trembling so badly you weren't certain if you could support your own weight, but nonetheless, you tried to make your way to the edge of the bed.

“No, no, I… I need to go wash off—”

“No, you're not.” His hand latched onto your arm, roughly pulling you back. You fell onto your side with a grunt.

You stiffened and whimpered as you felt two of his fingers wipe the inside of your thigh, collecting the semen that had slipped out with gravity and your movement, and pressed the fingers back inside of you, not wanting any to go to waste.

“Don't move around so much.”

Panic turned into aggression, like a cornered animal. Your nose wrinkled up with the furious expression that crossed your face.

“There is no way in hell I'm—”

Your words cut off once more as his hand latched onto your jaw, eyes narrowing.

“…Do you want to do this over again?” He tilted your head up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Because I have no problem with that, if you keep mouthing off.”

You froze up again. The despair took hold. You didn't have any more fight left in you. It wasn't worth it, you couldn't handle another round with the belt.

You bit your lip, shaking your head. It wasn't until he sighed, and gave you an irritated look that you recognized your mistake once again.

“…No, sir…”

He closed his eyes, seemingly content with the rectification. “Good.” He pulled you down further, until you were lying on your side. “It's late enough to go to bed. You need sleep.”

You lay motionless, aside from the still-lingering shivering, watching as he shuffled off the remainder of his clothes and turned off the nearby lamp, plunging the room into near-darkness, before laying back down, turning back towards you, pulling you close.

His arm wrapped around your back, keeping your body pressed to his. Your face rested against his collarbones.

He shifted a bit, causing his hand to just barely brush over your backside — you stiffened, sucking a sharp breath in through your teeth.

“Mm, sorry.”

The half-hearted, sleepy mutter was all you got — an apology you knew was only for the momentary accidental touch and not the pain itself. That would be deemed deserved and justified, should you ever complain, and would probably earn you the same punishment again.

Your face scrunched up with misery, as if about to cry, but your body couldn't produce any more tears.

“Night.”

You felt the rumbling in his chest against yours. You swallowed the lump in your throat before you replied, voice barely more than a whisper.

“…Goodnight…”

There was still a little bit of light coming in through the window — it wasn't even really fully dark yet, the last few rays of purplish twilight visible in the sky.

You wondered if you'd ever see it from any other view than the estate ever again — but pushed the thought away, as you didn't like what you thought might be the answer, nor the way it made you think of the conversation that transpired moments prior.

You closed your eyes, shifted around a bit and — wincing at the fluid that drooled down your leg — tried your best to rest.

#bro really saw an autonomous female existing and said 'not on my watch'#genshin smut #diluc x reader #.dl

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runnning-outof-time · 9 months

Text

Beach Day | Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - but encouraged by @holacia3 with this ask

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) manages to pull Tommy out of the office so that they can go on a trip. Once at their destination, they waste no time and have a much needed beach day. Or: Tommy forgets everything the second he sees (Y/N) wearing his shirt.

Warnings: language, some suggestive sentences

Word Count: 3332

A/N: this one’s probably going to flop, but I’m happy that I managed to finish it amidst the bout of writer’s block I’ve been experiencing. It was the other option on the poll I ran a few weeks ago. I haven’t got to take a trip to the beach this summer, so I decided to write about it instead. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: this will be the last story posted in July … I’m going on a trip with my family next week and most likely won’t have any major time to write the other requests. I’m hoping that maybe I’ll be able to write and share some of the blurbs that I’ve got in my asks, but big stories have been halted until August.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories like this one!

"...and you can't argue with me because I've already packed your bags," (Y/N) ended her pitch in an assured tone, setting her confident gaze on her fiancé, who was sitting across from her...at his desk, of course.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but the door to the office opening stopped him. Both he and (Y/N) looked over to it to find Polly entering the room. "I'm going to need you to hand over your diary," she said, walking right over to the desk, extending her hand towards her nephew when she stopped in front of it.

"I'm guessing you got her in on this?" Tommy asked (Y/N), his eyebrows raised as he looked between both women.

"I did," (Y/N) nodded in an assured manner, a tight-lipped grin present on her face, "and you're not getting out of it."

"Everything's been handled. Go take a break, Thomas," Polly added, moving her fingers then to remind him that she was going to need his diary.

"So it's been settled then, eh?" he looked at (Y/N) again.

"It has been," she answered him, a victorious smile present on her face, "give her the diary, Tommy."

"If I must," he sighed dramatically as he picked it up from his desk and handed it over to his aunt, making a big deal over it. Inside he was glad that (Y/N) had planned this out...he'd been working tirelessly on the business' latest expansion and hardly had a moment to breathe, but yet he wasn't going to stop and take one for himself. (Y/N) realized that and took it upon herself to plan the forced holiday.

"You must," (Y/N) stayed stern on her point, although the smile she was wearing was full on her face now. Tommy took one more look at his fiancée and couldn't stop the smile from forming on his face. There was not a doubt in his mind that he was ready to relax with her.

——

By that time the next day, Tommy and (Y/N) found themselves checked into a private resort that sat right off of a beautiful beach.

After unpacking their luggage, Tommy made his way out to the living area of the suite they were staying in with the intention of checking in on how things were back at home. He was thankful that this resort had high-speed internet, because he couldn't stand to be disconnected for too long. The flight to the resort was already pushing the limits...nothing would connect in that damned airport.

It seemed as though (Y/N) had other ideas of what they should be doing next. She exited the bedroom the second he'd gotten comfortable on one of the couches. Taking one look at Tommy made her audibly sigh and drop her hand to hit against her thigh, the sound of it making him look up from the screen.

He immediately noted that she had changed. Her comfortable airport attire had been switched for a swimsuit and a loose, practically see through dress that she was using as a cover-up. A pair of sunglasses rested atop her head and flip-flops covered her feet. How she managed to get changed so fast completely perplexed him.

"You're back to thinking of work already?" she commented, a bit of an exasperated look filling her features.

"You know how I like to check on things," he stated, defending himself as he shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"I do know, but we're on holiday, Tommy," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but we just got here."

"Yeah...and I'm already ready to go down to the beach."

"I noticed that."

"Tommy..." (Y/N) sighed, a frown forming on her lips. She held her gaze on him for a moment, watching and waiting for him to say something, before continuing to speak when silence persisted. "I'm going to throw your bloody phone in the ocean if this is how this week's going to play out," she threatened him, her voice holding a more serious tone than it had before.

"Just let me do it now," he bargained with her, "I didn't know we were going to get into things so soon."

(Y/N) pursed her lips as she thought about his suggestion. She finally responded after letting silence hang in the air for a few moments, "fine. You can do it now, but please don't let it become a habit, ok? This was meant to take you away from work," she laid out her stipulations.

"Fair enough. I'll curb it for the rest of the week," he agreed to her counter-offer, nodding his head to seal the deal.

"Good," she nodded in response to his statement. A few beats of silence passed before she spoke again, "I'm going to go down to the pool and wait for you, ok?" she told him her plan.

"Ok," he agreed, watching her as she walked over to where he was sitting. "Look beautiful, baby," he couldn't resist giving her a compliment, his eyes running over her body.

"Thanks, Tommy," she smiled at him, her stomach filling with butterflies as she leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. "Don't be up here too long, hmm?" she mumbled against his lips after pulling away.

"I won't," he promised her, feeling her smile against his lips before they shared one more kiss. (Y/N) stood upright again, smiling and nodding at him once more before she moved back over the island that broke up the kitchen and living space.

"You know where to find me," she told him while making sure that her tote bag was filled with the essentials: beach towel, sun tan lotion, hotel room key, and, of course, her latest book. She looked over to him, watching as he nodded one last time, before she made her way to the door of the suite.

There weren't many people sitting by the pool, so (Y/N) was able to find an open lounge pretty quickly. She set her bag down next to the chair and then relaxed back against it. The ocean's waves could be heard from where she was, and the calming sound of them made her shut her eyes and take a deep breath. It was good to finally be able to take some time and actually relax.

As a senior member of the Shelby Company Ltd.'s marketing team, she was working just as much as Tommy was. Always coming up with new ways of advertising; always keeping up with the different avenues Tommy was taking the company down. It was tedious and time consuming, sure, but she wouldn't have it any other way...the job was how she met her fiancé, three years ago.

With both of their busy schedules, neither really had the time to take a moment and relax...until (Y/N) made a point to now. She was thankful for this trip, and she was sure that Tommy was, too.

Some time passed as she sat, relaxing on the pool lounge. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out there; she wasn't really keeping time as she switched between laying with her eyes closed and watching the other people meander about the pool area.

Luckily she was doing some people watching when Tommy came walking down the stairs and into the pool area of the resort. She spotted him as he was descending the steps, and immediately noticed that he'd changed into his beachwear. The white t-shirt and jeans he'd worn while traveling was now swapped for a pair of gray board shorts and a baby blue linen button down shirt. She couldn't help but stare at him as he walked across the area to get to where she was lounging.

"Ready to go down to the water?" he asked as he stopped in front of her lounge.

"I see you're finally finished with your work," (Y/N) commented, pulling her sunglasses down slightly to peer up at him.

He chuckled at her statement, shaking his head slightly as he looked out to the ocean, "yeah, and it's finished for the rest of the trip."

"If you say so," she brushed off the topic as she sat up on the lounge, collecting her bag and making sure that she had everything she'd come down with. "Let's go down to the beach," she said with a smile as she stood next to him. Tommy nodded his head before allowing her to lead the way to the gate that separated the pool area from the private beach that the resort offered.

The beach was beautiful. The sand was soft, and the breeze coming off of the waves made the hot rays of the sun not burn so bad. One of the perks of the resort having a private beach was the fact that there weren't many people inhabiting it.

(Y/N) and Tommy quickly found a spot to set their things down. (Y/N) made sure that the beach blanket Tommy had brought with him (because she'd forgotten it in the room) was laid out underneath one of the umbrellas the resort had set up. She set the bag down on it before kicking off her flip-flops and lifting the cover-up from her body.

"Let's go down to the water," she excitedly said, flashing a look in Tommy's direction before she took off towards the waves.

"You're not even gonna wait for me," he responded, moreso to himself than anyone, a smile forming on his face as he shook his head. He could easily tell how much she was already enjoying this holiday, and he was so thankful that she'd planned it for them. It took him a few moments to undo his button down and set it into the bag before he too kicked off his flip-flops and began walking down to the water.

He approached (Y/N), who was standing facing the waves, and wasted no time wrapping his arms around her midsection. His actions made her shriek at first, but she sunk into his embrace in seconds. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked him, swaying slightly along with him.

"It is," he mused, resting the side of his head against hers as they looked out at the waves. "The water's not too cold either."

"It's not," she agreed, her hands coming up to sit on his forearms, "let's go in," she said then, tapping his arms to let him know she wanted to be released. He obliged, and she took his hand to lead him out deeper in the water.

They made their way out to where the water reached their waists, stopping there even though Tommy thought that they could go out a little bit further. (Y/N) protested his suggestion, telling him that 'things might eat us if we go any further'. Tommy listened to his fianceé's statement and stayed where they were. They spent a good amount of time in the water, switching from swimming around, to floating with the waves, to (Y/N)'s personal favorite: hanging onto Tommy like he was a tree and she was a koala.

At least an hour of them spending time in the water had to have passed before Tommy finally decided to start heading towards the shore. His movement, of course, didn't go unnoticed. "You're leaving me?" (Y/N) questioned after she saw him take a few steps backwards. She was enjoying herself in the water and had had no plans of leaving it any time soon.

"I think I'm ready to get out of the water," he answered with the obvious.

"We've not been in here long though," she pouted.

"I need to go sit for a minute, love. I'll be just up there," he told her, motioning to where their things were. (Y/N)'s pout didn't subside, but she nodded and allowed him to leave the waves.

She watched him walk up the beach and sit down on the blanket they'd laid out. Her eyes lingered for a few moments before she went back to floating on the waves.

It wasn't long before (Y/N) was exiting the water and walking up to where Tommy had made himself comfortable. It just wasn't the same wading in the waves alone. She wanted to spend as much time with Tommy as she possibly could. A sight - that she honestly wished she'd be surprised to see - was waiting for her at the blanket though.

"I thought you said you'd ditch the work while we're here?" she commented as she stopped in front of Tommy, who had his face buried in his smartphone as he tapped away at the screen.

Her voice made him quickly look up, a surprised expression forming on his face as he noticed she was right in front of him. "I was just checking a few things," he told her, holding his hands up in surrender, his now locked phone present in one of them.

"Mm-hmm," (Y/N) shook her head as she moved over to where the bag was sitting so that she could grab a towel and dry off, "you do know the ocean's right there, right? I could honestly take that phone and give it a good chuck," she stated, making sure her body was dry.

"You wouldn't," Tommy responded, a slight tone present in his voice, showing that he was testing the waters.

"I just might," she quipped back, a grin on her face as she dropped the towel back into the bag.

Before she could move to sit next to him, light blue fabric caught her eye. She instantly recognized it as the linen button down Tommy was previously wearing. She picked it up without a second thought, draping it over her shoulders and slipping her arms through the holes. It covered her swimsuit clad body immediately and she was grateful for the soft, cool fabric on her otherwise warm skin. She'd just finished rolling the sleeves up to her elbows when she finally felt Tommy's eyes on her.

Tommy had been watching her from the second she came back to the blanket. His phone was quickly forgotten as he watched her dry off and then grab the shirt from the bag. Sure, she had her own cover-up, but he was so damn happy that she'd chosen to slip his shirt on over her body. Something about her wearing his clothes just got him going. Just when he thought she couldn't get any more beautiful, she went ahead and did something like this. He couldn't help but let his eyes travel up and down her frame.

(Y/N)'s eyes finally found his when he found her face once more, and she couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach as she noticed the look he was giving her. She wanted to make a comment, but it died in her throat as she just about melted under his stare.

"C'mere," Tommy finally spoke, nodding his head to the side as a non-verbal addition to his statement. She grinned at him and happily followed his direction, moving over to where he was sitting.

He brought his knees up and opened his legs slightly, offering her the perfect spot to sit down in; one that she quickly fell into. She easily got comfortable sitting between his legs; her back rested against his chest. Tommy wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her, pulling her even closer to his body as he leant over and began pressing kisses to the side of her neck.

"Tommy, stop!" she exclaimed through her giggles, finally trying to squirm away from his lips as his actions quickly became ticklish. He listened to her and stopped his kisses, but he didn't dare loosen up the grip that he had on her.

It was easy for his hands to find their way onto her body, being that she'd left the shirt open, and he couldn't help but let them roam her figure. He took his time, feeling every curve as he nestled his face into her neck; breathing in the sweet smell of her skin mixed with the sunshine that had been kissing it since they exited the hotel room. (Y/N) had practically melted into his body, absolutely loving the feeling of his hands as they traced her skin.

She waited until his hands found their resting spot on the sides of her waist, his arms crossed over her stomach, to finally speak again: "I see that I've got your mind off of work now," she said with a grin, turning her head so that she could see his face out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh you most certainly have," he answered, a grin laced into his words, "look so fuckin' beautiful in my things...always, baby," he mumbled against the skin of her cheek before he kissed it.

The butterflies returned as she heard what he had to say, and she couldn't stop herself from turning in his arms even more so that she could press her lips to his in a much needed kiss. "Love you, Tommy," she mumbled against them, smiling as he kissed her again, this kiss holding more emotion than the last. "I can't wait for the rest of this week with you," she said once they'd finally pulled away from each other. She was now sitting with her body turned more towards him, so she was able to look at him head on. She couldn't stop her cheeks from heating up as she caught the look of total adoration in his eyes.

"If this is a preview of what's to come..." he trailed off, a grin forming on his face as his eyes danced over her figure once more, "I already know that this trip is going to be one that's hard to top."

His cheeky comment that was accompanied by a rather suggestive glance, made (Y/N) gasp, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes and shake her head as she tried to distract herself from how his words actually made her feel. Why did there have to be other people present on this beach?! She had to look towards the ocean for a few moments to re-center herself from the look that was making her wonder what they could get away with out here.

A few moments had passed before she felt the sharp snap of her swimsuit's strap against her skin. "Tommy!" she shrieked at the sensation, her eyes snapping back onto him to see that a smug grin was now present on his face. He tried, and failed, to feign innocence before his expression dissolved into a grin and chuckles. "I can't believe you," she shook her head, gently pressing on his shoulders for him to get the hint to lay back on the blanket.

She wasted no time in pressing her lips to his when he did lay down, and he made a mental note to do things such as that more often if this was going to be how she responded to it.

After sharing a flurry of kisses, (Y/N) rested her head against his chest, not caring about the shine of sweat that was present due to the heat of the sun that was engulfing them. She was thankful for the shade that their umbrella was providing.

Tommy wrapped his arms around the small of her back underneath the shirt of his that she was still wearing, effectively holding her close to him...like she was going to be moving any time soon. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the serenity that was surrounding them; not thinking about anything but the beautiful woman laying with him.

Like he'd said before: if this was a preview of how the week was going to go, this was most definitely going to be a tough trip to top.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

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llflorence · 1 month

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When you are old - human au, professors, quiet, gentle, romantic

6:42AM

That was what his phone read when the text message came through. It vibrated from under his pillow, and he very nearly dismissed it as an alarm he'd forgotten to disable. It was a holiday, after all.

And then, he remembered.

Are you awake, Angel?

Aziraphale fumbled the phone in his haste to respond. He sat up in bed and the stupid thing tumbled over the edge, landing in the crack between him and the wall. He scrambled to free himself from the tangled bed clothes, reaching down to collect it and only just touching with his fingertips.

"Damn!"

He tried again, exhaling in frustration at how his sizable gut got in the way and straining until he captured the escaped device. He typed a hurried 'yws,' and then a 'yrs,' and then, finally, 'yes.'

The phone rang almost immediately.

"'Lo, 'Ziraphale," that dark chocolate voice, thick with morning sludge, even deeper than normal. "Sleep OK?"

Aziraphale had slept like garbage. "Yes, I did. You?"

"Not a drop. Say? Since it's a holiday and all —" Crowley paused, leaving Aziraphale hanging by a thread. "Maybe we shouldn't go out —"

Disappointment sank heavy in his gut. Crowley didn't want to see him after all.

"— Maybe I should bring the party to you? Cook you breakfast?"

The downward swoop of his stomach immediately changed course, shooting skyward. "Oh! Oh! Yes, that would be lovely!"

Crowley's voice morphed into a smile. "Any requests? Or shall I surprise you?"

Aziraphale's heart was trying to kill him. He couldn't catch his breath. "Surprise me, by all means."

Desperate. It sounded desperate.

"By all means," Crowley repeated. "Fantastic. Gimme an hour, hour and a half?"

It was too long, much too long. "Yes. Yes, fine."

"Great! See you soon!"

Aziraphale didn't even hesitate. "Hurry!"

They disconnected and he tried to get control of his breathing. It had to be the lack of exercise lately; he should probably get back into walking through the park. Even if it was close to zero outside.

Then he remembered he'd gotten plenty of exercise the night before.

Well, then, it was sleep he was lacking. If he didn't put more hours under his belt, his heart was going to give out. Especially if he continued making first moves.

What was wrong with him?

There was a time not long ago when he'd been repulsed by the man. When the Californian's voice grated on frazzled nerves. Where his touch made skin crawl and they'd argued about the Arts and classism. And then there were those infuriating glasses —

Well.

Aziraphale set the phone on the side table and caught sight of his messenger bag, strap mended with the skillful fingers of an artist.

He undressed and made his way to the bathroom.

Under the relentless steaming pressure of his shower, Aziraphale thought about what Anathema had said at Christmas.

"He's in there with the champ of taking it slow."

A week ago, he'd sat in his favorite chair in the library, fantasizing about having Crowley over for dinner. And now?

He wondered when he'd gotten so bold.

Wrapped in a towel, Aziraphale sat on the toilet lid and thought of Crowley's dead mum.

"She'd have liked you."

Aziraphale looked down at the overlapping bulge of his stomach. It hid from his view the disappointment of a penis that had let him down the night prior. Just when he'd gathered enough bravery to kiss the stuffing out of Crowley, the not-so-young piece of equipment inside his trousers had refused to cooperate.

"Traitor," he scolded, smoothing down the wet curls on his chest and trying very hard not to feel sorry for himself. That second kiss had been – well, it had been perfectly exciting, and –

But that wasn't fair. Arousal wasn't stored in the flesh. It was born and raised and set free in the brain. It was Aziraphale who had gotten into his own head and disrupted a process he'd rather enjoyed as a younger man.

(And it wasn't like he had a problem when he was by himself.)

Aziraphale stood in the middle of his bedroom and thought about how Crowley had said he wasn't a morning person. It was 7:05. It cheered him immensely.

He dressed for going out. His usual staying-in attire of threadbare pajama pants that showed his plaid boxers underneath and oversized sleep shirt that similarly showed his nipples was hardly the attire that fit the situation. The goal was to seduce, not to distract.

He made the bed and tidied the bathroom. He descended the stairs and loaded the dishwasher. He began to wipe down the counters and thought about Crowley's blue handkerchief.

"Oh my."

Perhaps Rogering was a possibility.

The doorbell rang at 7:39, and Aziraphale tried to imagine Crowley screaming in ten minutes late for other events. He smiled and opened the door.

It had been less than an hour.

And then, there he was, looking slightly worn out but insanely happy, an overstuffed brown paper bag in each arm. He kicked out of his boots and waited to be asked inside, leaning down to peck the apple of Aziraphale's cheek as he offered to take one of the bags.

"You're sweet," he said, blushing furiously.

"Nah," Crowley argued. He set the second bag on the counter as Aziraphale closed the door. "You've just made me that way."

The man was dressed in what appeared to be gray drawstring joggers with big, fluffy pink socks pulled over the cuffed legs. He wrestled from his overstuffed parka, revealing a black t-shirt with the words Butthole Surfers on the front.

Aziraphale stared open-mouthed, still holding the bag.

"What? They were a crazy band! It was a phase I went through!"

Crowley hefted the bag from him with a wink and set it on the counter to remove the items. Aziraphale watched and felt overdressed.

The man's excitement was off the charts. He bubbled on about how glad he was he'd stopped at the Co-op the day prior and what great selection they had and how he'd purchased a membership and planned to shop there for everything from batteries to bananas to baked beans.

Aziraphale smiled and nodded quietly, watching as the counter filled with a smorgasbord of food items.

"Here," Crowley said, pushing a bottle of champagne into his hand. "Tuck that in the fridge, will you?"

His enthusiasm was contagious.

Aziraphale turned away and thought about returning to his bedroom to change back into his comfies, but Crowley had a surprise for him when he swiveled back.

Long, strong arms slid around his shoulders, pulling him in for the world's most genuine hug. Aziraphale closed his own arms around Crowley's waist, well above that pert, narrow ass, and lifted his chin over the man's shoulder.

"Hi," he said, inhaling deeply and loving the freshly-showered scent of him.

"Hi, back," Crowley answered and hugged him even more tightly.

Several moments passed as they clung to each other, until Crowley swung him around and crowded him against the sink. Aziraphale gasped, unprepared. He'd at least thought they'd make it through breakfast before –

But Crowley merely continued to hug him with one arm. With the other, he began unloading his purchases. "Don't mind me. Just go about your business and pay me no attention."

Aziraphale laughed and a whole lot of tension escaped. He clasped his hands together behind Crowley and took the man's weight; the countertop pushed uncomfortably into his lower back. He didn't care.

"So. I've got bagels and lox," Crowley named everything as he pushed it around on the counter, "and eggs and spinach and muffins and coffee and orange juice – I thought we could make mimosas – and –"

He went on and on and on, and Aziraphale grew even fonder of him.

Eventually Crowley had to give up his arm to be able to prepare omelets, and Aziraphale moved to find him pans, utensils, and bowls. He bent over to collect the hotpads from inside a bottom drawer and caught Crowley staring straight at his backside, eyebrows stitched together in an unreadable expression.

"Right –" Crowley cleared his throat, and Aziraphale's nervousness disappeared and he felt that much more empowered.

They ate right there, standing at the kitchen table, right off the same plate, Crowley forking morsels directly into Aziraphale's mouth. The room felt comfortably warm, and the conversation was intelligently rich. And if Aziraphale didn't know any better, he'd have thought they'd been like this for months.

Crowley measured out orange juice and bubbly when they'd finished and pulled Aziraphale bodily into the library. He set both flutes on the oversized ottoman and gave Aziraphale a gentle push onto the sofa, then sank heavily at his side, leaning forward to retrieve their drinks.

"Ah, I ate too much," Crowley sighed as he crossed one leg over the other. The pink-stockinged foot rested against Aziraphale's shin, rubbing gently back and forth as he slipped an arm over the back of the couch. Aziraphale eased into him, shoulder fitting nicely inside the man's armpit, the perfect height to nudge up under that bony chin.

"Me too," he agreed. "Although it was extremely delicious."

Crowley tilted his head to be able to look down into Aziraphale's eyes. His amber ones were so very attractive. They may have also been – fond? "Mm? You think so?"

Aziraphale nodded swiftly. Enthralled. "You can cook for me any time you like. Make a list, and I'll stock the kitchen with everything you need."

It was meant to make the man smile, to brush his ego, but it did the opposite instead. Crowley's face fell and his gaze flicked away. He sipped from his glass as he stared at the flames inside the fireplace before them.

"N-not that I'm suggesting we don't go out," Aziraphale backtracked, hoping to save the mood. "But this is nice, too. Don't you think?"

Crowley swirled the contents of his glass before taking another sip, swallowing audibly and smacking his lips. He didn't look down when he answered. "Indeed."

They drank their beverages in silence. Aziraphale refused to move away, and Crowley didn't seem bothered either way. He continued to run his toe up and down Aziraphale's leg, almost absentmindedly. And when he had finished his drink, he leaned forward to deposit the empty on the table.

His arm came off the couch.

“Listen. ‘Ziraphale.”

Aziraphale's palate went bone dry. Drier than the exquisitely expensive champagne on his tongue.

"Yes?" It came out with a squeak. A very unsure squeak.

Crowley's mouth had devolved into a very thin line. He twined his fingers together. "I had a nice time last night."

Aziraphale was so very confused. "So did I?" It came out like a question. Why did it have to come out as a question?

But Crowley didn't seem to notice. He stood and turned, calves bumping into the ottoman as he faced Aziraphale.

A hundred things raced through his mind, all of them bad. Aziraphale watched with heart in his throat as Crowley opened his mouth to say one or possibly more of them.

Aziraphale beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, my dear, for being so forward last night."

Crowley finally looked up. "You wot?"

"I-I shouldn't have assumed your intentions were anything but friendly."

The depth of emotion in Crowley's was unfathomable. It hurt to see it.

"I shouldn't have kissed you like that—"

Crowley's mouth opened and closed. The adorable underbite of his jaw flexed, and he made a sound in his throat.

"Ngk."

And then?

And then he was on the sofa. He was on the sofa with a knee on either side of Aziraphale's, and he had Aziraphale's face between his hands, and the drink was spilled on the floor, and the sofa was sliding backward as he pressed their mouths together, and he was kissing him in a way that was in no way 'friendly.'

"Mm?" Aziraphale tried to say as his lips were crushed and his cheeks, caressed. Crowley's thumbs were gently firm, his chin newly shaved. Aziraphale's mind whirled, his stomach boiled. And he did absolutely nothing to stop his shirt from being lifted over his head.

He helped, actually. Got tangled in those talented hands of Crowley's. Felt the brush of long fingers on the sensitive skin over his ribs, heard the excited rush of the man's exhale as he broke the kiss. He found the smooth skin of Crowley's forearm, gripped it tightly and thought it the most erotic thing ever.

"'Ziraphale," Crowley moaned as the shirt dropped over the back of the couch. He was sitting back, staring quite unabashedly at Aziraphale's broad, hairy chest. Cold and exposed, shy now that it had come down to it, Aziraphale closed his eyes so he didn't have to look at himself.

The slightest of warm touches graced his jaw, running delicately down the stretch of his neck. A pause, then further exploration over the curve of his shoulder.

"Gorgeous," Crowley whispered, rapturous. "You're gorgeous."

Something warm pooled in Aziraphale's gut, spreading upward and flushing his skin hot. He was acutely aware of how close they were, now that he knew what Crowley's hands could do.

"Oh, that's — that's —"

Aziraphale didn't know what it was, Crowley's fingers tracing bicep, circling the elbow and pulling his arm away from his body. He opened his eyes, finding Crowley staring at his fingers, holding his wrist very close to warm lips.

Crowley kissed the back of his hand, then turned it palm up and pressed it to his own smooth cheek. The man closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, held it for a long moment, before blowing out and allowing the hand to fall once more.

Crowley's weight rested on Aziraphale's knees, the heat of his backside a fiery flame. His gaze dragged the width of Aziraphale's chest, adoringly, indulgently. He lifted his hand to stroke the point of the other shoulder, pausing at the bulge of the muscle. He exhaled softly; it trembled.

Aziraphale's skin tingled with gooseflesh under Crowley's focused touch, under the hungry stare that lingered over the spanse of his chest. He was being devoured, worshipped. Time had suddenly stopped and it was just the two of them, on the edge of something beautiful.

He was beautiful.

Crowley shifted, then pushed himself to his feet. He leaned forward, reaching out with a hand to each of Aziraphale's knees. With quickened breath, Aziraphale guessed what was wanted, what was needed. And he put up zero resistance as his thighs were pushed apart.

"Oh."

Crowley knelt between them, easing in so that his firm stomach rested tightly against Aziraphale's crotch. The heated gesture most definitely triggered mutual arousal. He found himself rueing the thick fabric of his everyday trousers, wishing for more skin contact while simultaneously wanting to stay just as they were right then.

Hands took his own, twining their fingers together, squeezing and doing mad promising things to Aziraphale's heart. Crowley ran both hands lovingly along forearms, over elbows, biceps, shoulders. He turned his head from side to side, still watching, still worshipping. He didn't say much out loud, but the care he took spoke volumes.

As Crowley rounded the plump curve of Aziraphale's shoulders, his mouth fell open and his eyelids drooped heavily. As if he were drugged, as if he were affected by a substance so pleasant, he may as well be in heaven. His palms flattened and he crossed over collarbones onto the meat of what Aziraphale woefully accepted as breasts. And when Crowley's thumbnails raked punishingly over both peaked nipples, Aziraphale arched his back and clamped his thighs closed, and cried out in a manner unbefitting any decent gentleman.

"Oh, fuck!"

The electricity surging through Aziraphale's body was intense, yearning building much more quickly now. It appeared to be affecting Crowley similarly; he had begun to knead greedy fingers into the sag of Aziraphale's breasts. And then, he stopped.

A whine ripped from Crowley's throat, and he crumpled back on his heels. He fell back against the ottoman, and he rested his cheek on Aziraphale's knee.

"Angel," he said, hoarse and almost ashamed. "There's something I have to tell you."

It was a confession, on his knees like that. Like he was asking for forgiveness for his sins.

Confusion returned like storm clouds. It was clear something tortured Crowley. Whatever it was, it had to be bad. Something that stopped them from continuing onward, from being together.

Aziraphale summoned bravery and reached up to bury his fingers in Crowley's hair. It was soft and fine, the curls fighting against his combing. He didn't know if he could give this up, now that it was so very close.

"Then tell me," he hoarsed right back.

Crowley turned his face against Aziraphale's leg, rubbed his nose back and forth against his trousers. He sighed heavily, then rested his cheek once more. "I bought your book."

Aziraphale blinked. He did what? "You did what?"

Crowley nodded, embarrassed. "I bought your poetry book. Before I came to live here."

It was a puzzled frown that Aziraphale's face made. He didn't understand. "OK?"

His friend – no, his lover – sniffed. "And –" he paused, sighed again. "And I researched you. Found out where you worked. What you taught. Things you'd done."

Something fizzled in the back of Aziraphale's brain. "You – looked me up?"

Again, Crowley nodded against his thigh. "Proper stalker stuff, you know."

Aziraphale thought back to their beginning interactions. Their first outing for drinks. The subsequent lunches and dinners.

"My friend – Shax, we call her – my friend told me about you," he continued, his breath hot on the inner part of Aziraphale's other leg. "She said – she said you were just my type. So I bought the book, and I creeped on your privacy. And I'll completely understand if you never want to see me again."

A light bulb went on, glaringly bright, sparkling clear. Crowley thought, because his friend had suggested they might get along, that he was doing something untoward by pursuing him. His conscience had gotten to him, and he'd confessed to something he thought Aziraphale would be offended by. And he thought that would be the end of 'them.'

But there was more. Crowley had sacrificed his life in California to move to this town. He'd taken a chance, jumped off the dock without knowing how to swim. He had no idea what waited for him when he arrived. But he'd done it anyway, knowing full well he might fail. Aziraphale's heart did a strange dance in his chest.

Aziraphale dug his fingers deep into Crowley's scalp, tugging with so much fondness that it could hardly be contained. This man – this wonderfully stupid man – had given up everything for the chance he might find a compatible partner. And that right there was simply wonderful.

"Look at me," Aziraphale whispered, slipping his hand to the base of Crowley's neck.

He did, if cautiously, as if fully expecting rejection. Those striking eyes looked up at him with such hope that it hurt. And who was Aziraphale to grant anything but forgiveness?

Aziraphale smiled as softly as he could muster. He moistened his lips and made a decision. "Your friend was right. It appears I am just your type. Now, how about we abandon the sofa for something a little softer?"

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#ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #human au #LLflorence

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sunflowerheartsandstarryskies · 2 years

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You’re Not a Burden - Lucifer x GN!Reader

You’re Not a Burden - Lucifer Morningstar x GN!Reader

Author’s Note: This was requested by the lovely @coffinheartz about a reader who is chronically ill, I hope I did it justice and that you like it. I tried not to go too specific on the illness.

Warnings: Reader in pain due to their illness, angst???, then fluff, anxiety mentioned and described, stuttering (I wrote how I would stutter when my anxiety gets bad as a ref point)

Word Count: 1.0k

------------------------------------

You didn’t want to admit the pain you were in, because if you did you felt like you were quitting. On what? You weren’t really sure, but you’ve always tried to mask the amount of pain you were in due to your chronic illness, even though your partner Lucifer says not to. It was a part of your nature at this point, but now as you can barely get off your sofa you are starting to really hate that part of your self.

As you laid there groaning wondering how you were going to muster up the strength to even get dressed let alone go to work, your mind flickers to Lucifer and wondering if you should call him to let him know you weren’t going to work. You love your partner, but he can be a bit overbearing when it comes to your health and you weren’t sure if you were able to withstand that.

Living with your illness took some getting used to, having to discover a different routine with yourself and work, understanding and processing your emotions through it, but one thing that always hurts were people thinking you are a burden.

You met Lucifer Morningstar as you were going through your cycle of renewed self-discovery, he was a breath of fresh air for you, when all you were surrounded with were people giving you sympathetic smiles.

While he was just being himself around you, making you laugh, taking you to LUX, driving around in his car, he helped you to realize that the pain and the disease you had wasn’t all you were. You liked to have fun, watch really bad movies, going on long drives, and reading a good book while it rains.

Lucifer helped you feel like a whole person without him trying, and it hurts you to hold back on the pain you felt some days so he wouldn’t worry all the time. The habit you developed of downplaying your symptoms was a terrible one, one you want to break but are afraid to.

Anxiety’s something you’ve been battling for awhile now and it haunts your thoughts when it comes to your illness, constantly weighing you down further and always whispering in your ear that you are a burden to your friends and partners. Which is inherently false, you know in your core you aren’t a burden, you’ve been improving yourself, going through therapy sessions that Lucifer recommended you to go to.

“I am not a burden,” you whisper to yourself as you slowly pull yourself to sit up.

“I am not a burden,” you repeat as you go to reach for the phone.

You take a slow deep breath as you hold your phone before dialing Lucifer’s number. You exhale as you hear it ring and you repeat the mantra in your head as you wait for Lucifer to pick up.

“Hey darling, how are you?” Lucifer’s voice rang through your head, and you winced at the noise.

“H-hi Luce, uh remem-remember that talk we had a week ago?” you asked referencing the talk you and him had on you being more open when you are feeling in pain and wincing again at hearing the stutter in your voice.

“Yeah of course,” Lucifer responded patiently.

“Um yeah, I think today is a bad one,” you said taking a deep breath at the end willing yourself to remember to breathe.

“Do you want me to come over, love?” you heard him ask.

“If you can, if not don’t worry, I don’t want to be a burden,” you hastily said.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I couldn’t come, and you’re never a burden to me, love,” Lucifer said.

“Okay then, thank you,” you said softly.

“Of course, I’ll be there in a couple of minutes,” and with a click Lucifer disconnected.

You let out a sigh of relief and sunk further into your sofa then before, and feeling proud of yourself for reaching out to your partner this time then just wallowing in pain.

You didn’t know how much time or even when you closed your eyes but you were startled awake by knocking on your apartment door. Grabbing the blanket on the back of the sofa and putting it around your shoulders as you walk to the door.

When you open the door you see your boyfriend Lucifer looking at you with a soft expression on his face and he bent down to leave a loving kiss on your forehead in way of greeting.

“Hi Luce,” you said with a weak smile.

“Hello my darling, is there anything you need me to do now that I’m here?” Lucifer asked as he stepped inside.

“Could you get my pain medication? I haven’t taken them in a while and I couldn’t move off the couch until now,” you responded.

“Of course I can, can you move to your bedroom while I do that?” Lucifer said while guiding you further into the apartment.

“Yeah I think I can manage that,” you said.

As you both walk to where you needed to go, you felt your anxiety slowly go down. It’s a weird feeling to be cared for this much, but it’s a good feeling. As Lucifer came back with a glass of water and your pain medication, you felt loved.

“Thanks Lu,” you mumbled as you took the pills from him.

As you took a sip from the water and took the pills, you saw the soft look from earlier return. “What?”

“Oh nothing, I’m just happy that you called,” he stated.

“Oh,” was you all you could say.

Lucifer sat on the corner of the bed as he said, “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Just cuddles is all I need, unless you have-” you were cut off with a soft kiss on the corner of your lips.

“You are not a burden my love, know that,” he said with such a sincerity that you almost forgot where you were, “And of course I can cuddle. What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

“Thank you,” you said.

In the loving arms of your partner, and with your pain slowly ebbing away, you were at peace and loved.

#lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #x gn!reader #Lucifer Morningstar #lucifer netflix #lucifer x you #lucifer imagine

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brookeisa-phantom · 8 months

Text

“How did you end up here?”

Was a question I was asked many, many times my first few weeks. I think in the family asked me this question at least once, except for Howdy. Him and I don’t talk much. But every time I asked asked that annoying question, I answered like this.

It was a really long and rough night. I was on a date with my husband and we got into a really bad argument when we got home. I said some things I shouldn’t have said, he did something he shouldn’t have done. I left my home, leaving everything behind that night. I ran over to the nearest bar I could honestly. I guess it was a coincidence I ended up at Howdy’s. But I sat down at just a barstool and tried to forget what had just happened. Little did I know, my demise was sitting next to me.

“Well, I haven’t see you in a while.”

He said. I looked at him and it took me a minute to register that it was him. Wally. I was surprised and quite happy to see him. After everything in the last 6 hours I was so relieved to see someone I knew. Finally someone to talk to. After had chatted for a bit he asked, “How has your life been?” With that same voice from years ago. I was shocked that he wanted to know more about me still. I thought he didn’t exactly care, but I guess not. I didn’t give my experiences to him lightly I’ll tell you that much. I-… what’s the word… ranted, vented… laid it out? A combination of those I guess. I told him everything. How ever since I moved away from the original neighborhood I lost all my friends. I couldn’t even make any where I work now. No family either. I was so alone. His face seemed to light up, ever so slightly, when I said I was purely alone and had no family or friends. It was at this moment he asked me a question. The question that locked you in wether you said yes or no.

“Would you like to be apart of a family?”

I was… a little flattered but mostly uncomfortable I guess you could say. It was incredibly out of left field. I quickly asked him to elaborate or something to work off of rather than a terribly vague question. He got up from the stool he was sitting at and… not exactly asked. More like he demanded me to. Like, I don’t think I was aloud to say no to that. So I awkwardly got up and followed him wherever he was going. He took us to a more, less exposed part of the city before explaining to me what he meant. It was along the lines of: you can finally be apart of a family and be happy. You don’t have to worry about your past life, and everything will be ok again. But it was at the expense of something.

He essentially asked me to be apart of his personal family so it was a bit awkward. I said that “I was flattered and all but I can’t.” I couldn’t just leave my life behind like that. I don’t think he liked that answer, looking back.

The next thing I remember was waking up in some room. I think it was some warehouse. Must’ve had high ceilings because every sound you made, it echoed somehow. I must’ve just woken up when we got there because Wally was just closing the door behind him as he walked in. I would be lying if this guy didn’t do everything in his power to “persuade me”. I was shocked by how strong he was. I am like 2 inches shorter than him though so maybe that was also a contributor but damn, ya know? I thought it was only gonna be like, physical as in arms and fists only but… no. He had the bright idea of deciding to cut me up. I think by the time he was finished and hindered me enough to take what he needed, I was severed from what a human would call their rib cage, my hips and down were completely disconnected from my upper torso. My right forearm was clean off. Along with a lot of deep gashes around the rest of my body. Small pieces of my insides, or fluff, was everywhere around me. I was in such terrible, agonizing, tormenting pain. He grabbed something from a table a few feet away and went over to me. All it took was a quick jab in with.. fuck what was it… was it scalpel? I can’t remember it doesn’t matter. But, that and a hard yank, to disconnect it from the nerve.

The last thing I saw was my right on the tip of that scalpel before blacking out again.

I don’t know who’s long I was out for. I’d assume a while. I woke up very, very slowly. I felt strange, I felt my body parts again. They were stitched back onto me with large stitches and bright red string. Every cut and gash from my skin was shut now. When I opened my left and only eye, I saw.. well, you know who, cowering over me with his stupid smile. Along with everyone else, standing beside and behind him. Everyone from that old neighborhood they were all… here? It was.. a shock for me. Then I heard the phrase. That one line he said that haunts me even after a few years of being apart of the family. The once quote that will eat away at me until I die…

“Welcome to the family, Ms. Maroo.”

[credits]:

AU - @clownsuu (I really want you to see this 💀)

Art and backstory - you’re truly✨

And of course, Welcome Home itself - ClownShaped Coffin. The man the myth the legend himself.

#welcome home #welcome home mob au #my art #WOAH DID I JUST MAKE LORE??? COMFIRMED?#I spent too much type writing this it’s actually funny how slow I type and I’m on an electronic a lot #my screentime is painfully high lmao #anyway I’ll post a ref of this sad sack of fluff and fleece I call a welcome home OC eventually.#I really like your AU Clownsuu and your art! keep doin what you do!!!#ok ima make dinner now.

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duckyfruitbat · 1 month

Text

They're at it Again.

Do y'all remember Gamer Gate? I only just learned what all happened in the last year, because at the time I only heard about it in its last days when things were so confused and muddled that I could only gleam the sexism that ran all throughout. Turns out it was a relationship drama that got way out of hand and that whole "ethics in game journalism" part was just a cover. Anita Sarkeesian was just an after thought in the whole thing, yet she has been so thoroughly lambasted by this crowd that you'd be forgiven for thinking that she was the subject. Honestly the timeline is so confusing and disconnected with itself that it is a miracle that Gamer Gate was even a thing, here's and hour long breakdown here if you're curious. If you want ALL the details, here's a six hour long epic here.

OK Ducky, why are you bringing this up, it was ten years ago, we all know how crazy these people are?

Thank you for your input voice in my head. Yes this is old news, but it has been coming up on my feed again. This time with headlines warning about Gamer Gate 2.0, like Heimdall blowing his horn to signal the start of the most pathetic Ragnarok. This time the subject is a company called Sweet Baby Inc. which is a consulting firm according to their website. Specifically consulting about how to represent minority experiences or just sensitive subjects in general. The conspiracy theory is that Sweet Baby has the power to completely change scripts to be more "woke". Yes it is stupid because game developers willingly go to them when they have questions, and they can just ignore any advice from Sweet Baby entirely. Of course it also plays into the culture war that has been boiling away in the meth lab since Gamer Gate initially happened.

Now to get to the real reason I'm bringing this back up, allow me to shove my opinion on this into your brain like a tentacle slithering down your ear canal. I don't think this will take off like the first Gamer Gate at all. Why do I say this? Over the past year alone we've been seeing the kind of people who would jump on this train making complete fools of themselves any chance they get. Remember the Star Field pronouns guy? This is just going to be more of that, and it will be largely ignored with the exception of a few public meltdowns. There's also the fact that this one would be built on even shakier ground than the first one. In order for Sweet Baby to be involved in a video game the developer needs to make contact first. In a series of interviews with The Verge, team members of Sweet Baby repeatedly say how they are just there to consult the writers, who already wrote in minority characters. That's just how a business like this works, the "woke" content would have found its way into the game to begin with. The difference being the slightly higher possibility of misrepresentation.

Needless to say, if this blows up within the next week, it's safe to say that this wave will be a laughing stock. As I'm writing this, the cracks are already forming. Maybe you saw that Matt Walsh from the Daily Wire has already given his two cents on the situation on the side of Gamer Gate. Here's the thing though, there are clips floating around of Walsh actively bashing gamers for playing video games as adults. He got some backlash from his own audience. The targets of this wave even have a support group in the victims of the first Gamer Gate. This time the defense prepared, and the offense seems far less prepared than last time.

#duckyfruitbat #rambling #gaming #gamergate #game news

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fandomsoda · 5 months

Note

Let's play a game! Spot the difference!

Look at the replies in these two posts.

https://www.tumblr.com/a-god-selfmade/735285489689608192/you-ever-apologize-and-then-get-absolutely?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/largefound/734626740408893440/announcement-related-with-the-vent?source=share

What's something they have in common? You.

What's something they don't they have in common? You being a decent human being who can feel for others.

Before you attack an innocent person again, Largefound did not send me.

First, you completely ignore people trying to help you keep safe from Skeletal. You were told things about him, with proof, but you're blinded by favoritism.

Secondly, take a minute to breathe. Emotions are weird, I know, but you can at least take a little snack break instead of just immediately yelling at people about emotions you haven't processed.

For once, can childish people like you and Skeletal not fuck things up? I've sent you both asks before, being polite, but I don't have fucking time for that anymore. Fuck you and Skeletal for being such attention whores.

Get your unloyal ass off social media, you fake ass bitch. This is meant to be somewhere safe, don't fuck it up.

I was going to ignore/delete this one just like all your other asks, but I know from experience that you will only continue to harass me and will use my silence against me, so I will respond.

Long post ahead boys, strap in.

Ok so I’ll start with addressing the replies, since that’s the most genuine thing in this ask.

The second link you provided shows a reply I left 1-2 weeks ago and genuinely meant and still mean. I genuinely wish Large well, and as far as I am concerned we are cool.

The first one listed was made a few days ago very early in the morning and was made impulsively. My emotions got disregulated and so I assumed the worst. I am not proud of this comment and I would have deleted it if I had remembered it existed. Not to “cover my tracks” or any shit like that, but because that statement was genuinely hasty, unkind, and inconsiderate of me to make. And I regret it.

I actively want to move on and be cool with Large, I have reconciled my own anger and all the miscommunication from past events. I do not hold whatever happened here against them as that would be ridiculous for me to do considering I don’t actually know what happened and was just going off of Skeletal’s tags. I wasn’t gonna start a problem over this because that would just be shitty of me and make things worse.

One of these comments was absolutely wrong to make and doesn’t reflect my true feelings, but it doesn’t mean I somehow am not a decent human being or can’t feel for others, nor does it somehow prove me as “fake”. People feel differently about the same thing at different points in time depending on mindset and context.

Now allow me to tear into all your other statements/points because as far as I’m concerned the rest of this is bull.

Firstly I know damn well that Large didn’t send you because I know that Large is not ok with harassment and shit like this, several times offering to make posts to tell people like you to leave me alone. Also you say “again” and I’m not sure what you’re referring to, I don’t believe I’ve ever directly accosted someone about an ask I received on their behalf. Nor do I believe that you actually know anything about how this situation played out between the parties involved considering most of it was in private conversations.

Now let’s talk about Skeletal because y’all are really fucking disconnected on this one. (I say y’all because I know it’s not just you under these false beliefs)

Let me start off my saying your claims are just flat-out wrong. But let me elaborate on why. Firstly let me say that you actually never did give me proof, but I did see you give “proof” to someone else and it’s all garbage.

“Oh this person’s friend who is in the same/a similar age group, identity, and arts class sounds similar to them and has similar hobbies? That must mean they’re the same person and this friend isn’t real!”

Do you have any fucking idea how ridiculous that is.

I honesty will not believe you until you have like. Actual visual evidence of him planning to do this or whatever.

And as someone who was keeping tabs on Skeletal a lot beforehand and was there to watch their entire reaction to the situation unfold, it would make no logical sense for him to have done this.

They took the rejection pretty well all things considered and were behaving very stably before that happened. Skeletal was actively moving on and growing and showed no true resentment nor hostility towards Tundra about this.

And when I caught wind of the situation, I actually was very afraid that he had been responsible for this. I left void a bunch of messages out of worry, and when he got on that day his initial response was intense confusion and having no idea what I was talking about, with me soon being able to explain and say who was responsible. I watched him confront them. Skeletal still cared about Tundra, even after everything and it showed.

Until Tundra somehow managed to do a bunch of mental gymnastics and convince herself of this and you along with her.

But I know my son, I’ve talked to him about this whole situation several times, I’ve shown him your asks and accusations, and I am convinced that he isn’t capable of this. It isn’t impossible, but it’s highly unlikely and if it is true I will have been lied to over and over again to my face, I will be fucking devastated. But I don’t think it is. Because I don’t believe he’s capable of that.

I don’t need to be protected from Skeletal.

Now let me just go over the rest of this because wow-

It’s really amusing that you call me and Skeletal “attention whores” when we have been ACTIVELY AVOIDING/IGNORING YOU and have been trying to resolve our own damn personal issues calmly, responsibly, and privately. We want to move on, we want to put this to rest.

You are the one constantly begging for us to respond to you and pay attention to you and you’re the one being loud and immature. You are the only person keeping this shit going.

And you going from saying “I understand feelings can be hard” to calling me a “fake ass bitch” not three paragraphs later is downright comical honestly like what the hell dude-

I am not stirring up issues, I am not making this place more unsafe, I am just trying to live my life and you are the one showing up to hurl insults at me and antagonize me. You have not been polite, all of your asks have come off as underhanded and petty.

The people you’re trying to defend would NEVER approve of your behavior right now and they do not agree with you. Please relax.

This is also like. None of your business. That’s why I’ve avoided addressing you directly for so long, it’s because this isn’t you nor anyone else’s business. You are not involved, this is not your place.

You’ve been obsessing about me for what might be over a month now. That is not healthy. And I know that can’t feel good either. I know that rage, that anguish, that sickly cycle of thinking about that person several times a day. I know the feeling where the fact that you can’t speak to them directly causes you to start to construct a monster in your mind, how you start to subconsciously dehumanize them. I know that hatred, that grudge. And I hope you manage to let it go, let your malice melt away and reason take hold once more. Because holding grudges like that is painful and it’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Despite all of this I still do wish you the best. “The best” being that you get out of this unhealthy mindset and stop being so cruel. I know that you probably have a good heart, you just want to do what’s right and you view me as a monster. Therefore you want me slain. And that’s a feeling that I understand but is not one that will ever get you what you want in life.

I want to be clear that I don’t look down on you, I’m just upset at you and honestly scared of you. All of this has left me bewildered and upset. But I know that if I can grow and change, so can you. Even if I know that you’ll probably think I’m being disingenuous when I say that.

I wish you well, but as long as you are so spiteful and cruel I do not want you anywhere near me.

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electricbluebutterflies · 6 months

Note

Kabby + “for once, i need you.”

Post-s2 grayspace / let's play a little loose with medical plausibility here, PG-ish, also on ao3.

To say that neither of them is handling their current physical condition well would be a distinct understatement.

Abby will be fine in a week, hopefully, which is to say that until she’s able to move on her own without pain she is… even she can admit she’s not a pleasant person to be around, and at least she is admitting how badly she’s handling this, unlike some people, unlike-

On the bright side, the fact that she and her former nemesis have been more or less exiled to a storage closet together and haven’t even tried to murder each other in the past three days shows some kind of personality development for both of them. Whether this is positive or lasting remains to be seen.

At least she has a clearer path forward, she reminds herself. Every day the pain is a little less, and she’s motivated, and-

She wakes up from a nap to a noise that sounds like something… not quite dying, but like death would be less painful than this, and the usual space next to her is warm but not currently occupied, and-

“What did you do?”

Another unhappy noise, coming from the general vicinity of the floor. “Why is that always where you start?”

Fuck.

She’s known Marcus since they were children, which means she’s had decades to confirm how repressed he is, and anything that might make him this uncomfortable…

Whether it’s a good idea for her to get down on the floor is not the point right now. She can at least use the edge of the bed for stability if she needs to. Whatever happened can’t be that bad, she thinks, it can’t be-

Well, the amount of blood would explain a few things. Enough that she can see it through dark pants, enough… oh, she’d said the bandages weren’t necessary a few days ago, always trying to conserve resources, she didn’t think-

“For once, I need you,” he murmurs, and there is something so desperate and damaged in his eyes that she’s been seeing more and more lately and when did she start actually caring and-

“Stay still and forgive me,” she hisses, brain shifting into work mode as much as she can force it. “And take off your pants, if you can-“

She can disconnect well enough, or at least try to. The fact that she’s a little more interested in his body than she used to be is… currently wildly inappropriate, and she’s seen this wound before, and she knows damn well that he’ll never move the same way again and she’s not sure how to say that or if she ever can and-

It doesn’t look deep, at least. Like he hit something, maybe, but it’s just blood, it’s just-

There aren’t bandages anywhere she can see. More great decisions on her part, insisting that they didn’t need anything, insisting that they were fine, she’s so used to scarcity and improvising and it hits her that none of that is good and-

Taking off her tank top is the best idea she has. Blood will come out of the fabric, and she isn’t completely indecent under it, and she feels safe here, and-

She feels safe. She strips down to her bra, alone with someone she has never had an amicable relationship with, and she feels safe. That’s going to be a fun existential crisis if she ever has time for it.

For now, getting the fabric knotted around his thigh is enough of a challenge, and her hands feel unsteady and that’s another problems she doesn’t have time for, and by the time she gets the knot tight and centered over the wound she’s not sure she’s done anything right and she hasn’t felt this unsure of herself in so long and-

“Thank you.”

In a different mood, she’d make a comment about being amazed he even knows those words, but right now isn’t the time and-

“You worry me,” she murmurs. “You don’t get to worry me, understand? Not until I can keep up with you again.”

“I thought I could-“

“I don’t want to know. It is in your best interests if I don’t know. I didn’t know you could howl like that and-“

“Wasn’t sure how else to wake you up.”

It did work, she’ll give him that, but-

“You worry me,” she repeats.

“Is that a problem?”

“More than you’ll ever know.”

#ebf writes fic #kabby #queue

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thetrueshan-blog · 11 months

Text

My long winded thoughts on TOTK, aka I just beat the game so let me write this up

Just a fair warning this will include full spoilers for TOTK. You have been warned. What lies below are some of my rambling (long winded) thoughts I collected after beating TOTK for the first time. Some would be stretched to call this a review. I personally would just prefer to call this as my own ramblings I can refer back to in a digital sense. I’m trying to in corporate a lot of my thoughts into this piece, but as I am writing it I am finding it harder and harder to talk about everything. So I will probably leave something out on accident and I apologize for that. Again: Warning if you want to avoid any spoilers don’t read past this point.

Also just gonna apologize right now for the length of this one. I had a lot to talk about, but had to cut some stuff out and even then this is an extremely long post.

Table of contents:

0. Intro: we gotta start somewhere 1. The Voice Acting Pre-ramble 2. The Tears of the kingdom (or in other words: the story) 3. The return of the rushed and unrewarding ending. 4. The Disconnect between BOTW and TOTK 5. List of complaints that were improved on (?). 6. Who knew Nuts and Bolts had good ideas? (Or the new powers in TOTK) 7. Rapid fire list of new things I liked 8. Conclusion

0. Intro: we gotta start somewhere

So, here we are. TOTK came out exactly 2 weeks ago from this post. And I just beat it. Took about 72 hours over 2 weeks. So, what do I think about TOTK? After all I was quite harsh on BOTW in my write up for BOTW on May 5th. And it has been three weeks since I posted that write up. So how did TOTK live up to my expectations?

Well, I’m not gonna beat around the bush. I loved TOTK. It’s not a perfect game, and shares a fair amount of flaws from BOTW. But I had an absolute blast playing through TOTK.

I mentioned in my last write up that I don’t like to give out numbered reviews. That’s mostly because I tend to flip flop my scores around. It’s kinda one of those things that the score I give for something really depends on how I feel that day. But if I could retroactively give BOTW a numbered score, it would be a 6/10. It’s not a bad time overall. But there’s a lot of room for improvement since it can be quite rough.

So what about TOTK? What score would I give that game? I’m thinking an 8/10 right now. It’s almost a perfect game for me. But there’s some parts that are really rough. Plus it still shares some flaws from BOTW, and biggest for me of all is there is no post-game content. That last point also makes me want to give this game a 7/10. It’s that disappointing to me that once again we are not given a chance to explore a peaceful world that we helped to create. It’s so baffling to me that Nintendo thought that was a good idea again. Give me some rewards for beating the game, besides the petty star sticker next to my save profile. But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself here. Let me try to describe this game in a similar format to how I described BOTW.

1. The Voice Acting Pre-ramble

Yeah, the voice acting returns with a vengeance in this game. But I knew from my recent play time with BOTW that I couldn’t stand the EN voice acting and that would probably hurt my time with the game. So the moment I got the chance to (as in the first five seconds of hitting play on the game) I switched over to the JP voices. And, thank Hylia for that, I am so glad I did that. It massively improved my opinion of the game and the story moving forward. I think there’s a disconnect from how the EN VAs are trying to convey the characters and how the JP VAs do it. EN Zelda sounds like a pompous upper class princess that wants to be treated with respect but still doesn’t under stand why the lower classes of Hyrule may distrust her. Meanwhile JP Zelda sounds like an innocent girl told to take on the weight of the world and doesn’t quite know how to deal with that heavy burden.

I don’t know, this might just be my hate for the EN Voice acting coming out but I really just don’t like Zelda’s characterization in the EN side. It might some kind of cultural language barrier when trying to translate the game into English.

But enough about voice acting. I played TOTK with JP voices on the whole time and I enjoyed all the voices and thought they fit their characters nicely.

2. The Tears of the kingdom (or in other words: the story)

So, one of my biggest gripes of BOTW was the disjointed and lack luster story. The story focused on how Zelda failed to live up to the expectations thrown at her. Which is a tragic tale, yes. However it got very stale and eventually annoying when every single piece of the story linked back to this point. The main issue I had was that there was no major wrap up point for that tragic tale. Well until the end of the game that was. But then we see the conclusion for like a minute or so and then BOTW ends and tells you to play TOTK if you want more. So going into TOTK I had some very low expectations. And honestly that might have helped. Because TOTK’s story compared to BOTW is actually one I care about.

Alright warning again about story spoilers. Skip to next section if you don’t want to read this.

The first thing that happens in TOTK is that Ganondorf wakes up. Yes that Ganondorf. But a new version. His hatred and malice was spilling out creating the “great calamity” from BOTW. But in this game he wakes up and immediately attacks Link and Zelda. Shenanigans ensue: Link looses all hearts and stamina; Zelda falls down a pit (but time warps herself); Link looses his right arm; and the master sword is shattered. Basically starting from scratch all over again. I won’t do a full summary since I think that would take up like 2,000 words. And I kinda wanna spare my hands for doing that. But needless to say I already like this premise way better. There’s a definitive goal: Find Zelda. There’s a definitive villain: Defeat Ganon. And a decent explanation to why Link looses all upgrades from the first game. All in all a pretty great start to a game. But wait it gets better. Turns out this game has the seven sages. Yup, the seven sages from OOT. When I saw this I was so excited. It’s not exactly the same sages from OOT. But it’s the idea of seven sages helping Link to stop the great evil that is Ganondorf.

TOTK also starts by explaining who the Zonai are. Which were barely hinted at in BOTW. I don’t think I even mentioned the Zonai in my BOTW write up. But not only does TOTK explain stuff about the Zonai, it turns out the Zonai play a huge part of the story. Since the Zonai’s Secret Stones are the MacGuffin that gives who ever holds them great power, turning them into sages. But the stones only amplifies power already there. It’s not gonna awaken a new power in you all of a sudden. But there’s also one more note, don’t eat them. If you do you will become an immortal dragon and loose all sense of self. Which is a neat extra side note for lore purposes on explaining how the giant dragons like Farosh exist in hyrule.

So yeah, I massively enjoyed this setting way more than BOTW’s story. I don’t know if it’s because I already knew so much from BOTW that hearing new things in this story really ended up helping. But it certainly didn’t hurt.

3. The return of the rushed and unrewarding ending.

I kinda spoiled this earlier, but yeah the ending to TOTK is similar to BOTW’s. It ends, rolls credits, quick cutscene, and then reload back to the title screen where you can then reload your save file right before the final boss with a new star sticker icon next to it. I know this is a trend with Zelda games. Once the evil is vanished the story is no more. But with huge open world games like this, especially since I enjoyed the setting of TOTK more than BOTW, I think it’s a huge wasted potential to not reward the player by seeing the world in a peaceful state. Or to see how people react. What the next things would be like. Like imagine if the end of BOTW was to finish the shrines, koroks or whatever but along side that you start working with Zelda to establish a reconstruction of Hyrule. But that doesn’t happen in BOTW. Nor does it happen here in TOTK. There’s this kind of disconnect between the player and link about what happened in BOTW to TOTK.

Which speaking of...

4. The Disconnect between BOTW and TOTK

I know it’s a hard challenge to even build such huge games like BOTW and TOTK. But I am disappointed by some of the lack of continuity between these games. I wonder how much of the game actually depends on your save from BOTW and how much is a mirage. In BOTW you can help foster a new town called Tarrey Town. In TOTK, Tarrey Town exists and has expanded. But does this mean this action is because Link, being played by me, helped Tarrey Town? Or does this happen no matter what and Tarrey Town always exists? I think it’s the latter. And frankly I don’t blame Nintendo for not creating systems that check every little thing like that from BOTW to TOTK. But at the same time there are some other times that this “disconnect” irks me.

The main disconnect is a question that remained in my head the entire game. “Where are the guardians and divine beasts?” Like no seriously. Where are they? They’re just gone in TOTK. Did they get repurposed and destroyed? What happened to the sheikah towers? The only evidence I can even spot of the old sheikah stuff from BOTW in TOTK is the guardian that sits up on the Hateno Research lab. But that’s it. Maybe I missed some important diary log where this is explained. But I just couldn’t find a reason for this. Link probably knows what happened. But since he’s mute we don’t get to hear that side of things. Though I am definitely not trying to say that Link should have had voiced lines or anything. If anything I am really glad he doesn’t speak. But he just doesn’t communicate to us the players in any way.

And honestly that is something that is bugging me. With so many characters having so much dialogue and even some having voiced lines, it’s baffling to me that we know so little about Link himself. Link acts as an avatar for the player, until he doesn’t and does stuff on his own. Like we, the player(s), don’t know exactly what happened between BOTW and TOTK. But Link sure does. So there’s a weird disconnect there where you could draw a ven-diagram that showcases the difference in what Link knows and what we the Players know.

Like a good example of this is how Purah’s first appearance is treated in TOTK. To us the player it is a shock that the once child looking researcher now looks like a mid 20 something grad student. So the cut scene plays out to be a surprise to that fact. However the cut scene really just showcases how surprised Purah is to see Link is alive and well. Link isn’t shocked about her appearance and there’s no mention of it. But we as the player are vastly confused on why Purah looks like she aged very rapidly. And in my case I was trying to judge how big of a gap between BOTW and TOTK was* so when I saw Purah for the first time I was wondering if it had been like 15 years or so. But I found out later in a diary she hid that she aged herself up to 100 and then back down to 20 because she was sick and tired of being treated like a child. (*Side note: I think it’s somewhere between 5-10 years of a gap. Probably around 6 though. The only indication is the child of Hudson and Rhondson, Mattison being taken away to Geurdo town as she has reached the age of maturity. However Mattison didn’t exist in BOTW so it depends on when Rhondson got pregnant for the time gap. End of Side note)

Which wouldn’t be a problem if the info Link knew was also shared with us the player. I don’t know, maybe something like Link having a journal or something that we the player can read through as we journey along so we can keep up to date? Or maybe a journal left by Zelda as she’s trying to keep track of history for new history books? Something like that would have helped a lot with this issue. Especially when there’s something like Link’s house in BOTW in now Zelda’s house in TOTK. What happened there? Are they living together? Did Link give the house to Zelda? Did Link not buy the house but Zelda bought it? I don’t know, because the game won’t tell me anything except for the fact that this house is now Zelda’s.

But enough of this, let’s talk more game mechanics now.

5. List of complaints that were improved on (?).

Alright so for this next section I am going to refer to this list of complaints I had for BOTW in my previous write up:

1. Durability system is wack. I get what they were going for, but it does seem weird that weapons can break so easily and fast. 2. Rain stops all exploring if you need to climb. It’s just not fun. 3. Combat feels slow and clunky. Never really got a hang of it. 4. No passive upgrades to anything except to health and stamina. 5. Dungeons are neat. But way too small and I wish the guardians didn’t speak during them. Just let me bask in a cool place nintendo. Stop talking my ear off. 6. Shrines all feel the same. Also randomly the walls aren’t climbable in shrines? Just put barriers to stop link from climbing on them. 7. No themes in shrines or dungeons. They all look the same. At least the music is different in the dungeons at least. 8. There is no way to see the durability of weapons until it is about to break. 9. You cannot get a full set of hearts and stamina. You will always be missing one. (this might have been fixed in the DLC?) 10. If an enemy can guard your attack then you can’t damage it until you break their stance. Even if they are facing away from you. 11. Koroks... so many koroks... but eh kind of a pro/con situation. Don’t need to worry about getting them all, but at the same time feels so boring getting them. 12. Blood moons. Freaking blood moons. They appear at the worst times. 13. Thunder blight fight. I have no idea why this one fight is so hard compared to the rest. Each blight and including the final boss I beat all on the first try. With thunder blight I died like 15-20 times on. It’s just tough as nails. You need to dodge instantly otherwise you get hit so badly. Like here’s a link to me beating it: click here. It’s by far the hardest boss in the game for me. 14. If something needs to re-charge (master sword, or guardian powers) it needs to fully deplete before re-charging. Which is a bit annoying.

So let’s see what I think about these in TOTK since TOTK is very similar to BOTW.

Immediately numbers 1-4 are basically the exact same. They are issues in both games. But number 5 is interesting. When I played TOTK there are 5 dungeons*. Which is 1 more than BOTW. But the difference is that while BOTW’s dungeons felt like big shrine puzzles. I would say TOTK dungeons feels like proper Zelda dungeons. Heck these are called “temples” in this game too. They might not be the greatest dungeons mind you, since they’re still pretty open and easy to complete. But there are some tougher puzzles and they feel much more Zelda like to me. (*Side note: though I don’t know if there’s another sixth dungeon since I didn’t complete the depths. If there was another one I would think it would be the “shadow temple. But I didn’t find any “shadow temple”, which might be in the depths(?) but honestly that’s a pure shot in the dark, hehe. End of side note)

Number 6 is also still true.

Number 7 is half no longer true. Shrines have the same music and look but are different from BOTW. Meanwhile the dungeons or Temples are very different in themes both visually and musically. They all incorporate some level of “Find X number of things to unlock the boss door”. But they at least look and sound different this time around. They also incorporate different music and you complete different parts of the temple.

Number 8 is still true.

Number 9 is something I can’t tell. The beginning of the game showed Link with a full set of hearts and stamina but that’s not something I know if you can also get in this game. I would assume so. But I have not done that yet so I can’t say for sure.

Number 10-12 are all still true.

Number 13. I had an easy time with all the bosses in BOTW except for thunderblight ganon. But in TOTK I can’t really say I faced the same hardships. Well except for the 2nd Master Kohga fight. But for main bosses I really didn’t have that much issue. That was until the final boss. Ganondorf third phase kicked my ass. But in a good way. It was still frustrating since it forced me to dodge perfectly and then parry to even damage him (which actually makes it a bit worse than thunderblight). But it was the final boss. So it was a nice challenge. (Side note: I found some cheese starts for Ganondorf. If he does a big two-handed attack that you avoid with the paraglider. Use bullet time and arrows on him. Does a decent amount of damage. In his second phase ignore the phantom Ganons. Just go for the big guy himself. In the third phase, try to pinch him near against a wall. When he backflips he doesn’t make a much a distance from you and him and you can get some easy hits in. It was the only way I was going to beat that third phase. End of side note)

And Number 14 is also still true.

So TOTK improved a few areas but it still has a lot of the issues of BOTW.

6. Who knew Nuts and Bolts had good ideas? (Or the new powers in TOTK)

Alright let’s get this one out of the way. Link has new powers in TOTK. I was thinking he would retain the old powers and get some new ones. But nope. He got a whole new bag of tricks of his sleeve this time. Which honestly is a bit shocking to me because I was thinking he was going to at least keep the bomb ability. But even that’s gone. What’s in it’s place is a new plant called a Bomb Flower you can pick up and store in your inventory to later fuse with. Which is really nice to see the bomb flower return in another Zelda game like this. But let’s talk abilities:

1. Ultrahand: Basically the new magnesis of this game. This one is a bit weaker and can’t push stuff around as much, though it can rotate objects. However that’s not all it can do, because it can also attach objects together. This combined with the new Zonai devices creates the possibilities to create vehicles, automated battle bots, and basically anything you can come up with. It’s really the main crux of new exploration and puzzle solving for this game. And I really like it. Though it does raise the bar for how complex some of the puzzles can definitely be.

2. Fuse: So this ability allows you to fuse basically any object to your sword or shield that you have equipped. Because of story reasons involved with Ganondorf’s Gloom, all weapons are now weaker. But you can fuse objects on top of other weapons to make them stronger. At first I didn’t use this ability that often. But as time went on I really saw the benefit to using something like this. At the end I was able to make really strong weapons out of boss materials to make weapons in the 30-60 damage range.

3. Ascend: This ability allows you to ascend throw any solid surface above you that also has a solid surface above it. This allows for a lot of vertical movement.

4. Recall: This ability allows you to rewind an object’s path up to a certain point. Think of this as TOTK’s version of stasis. But it move’s stuff backwards.

5. Auto-build: This ability you don’t get in the tutorial area but have to go deep into the depths to obtain it. Basically it’s a recent history of your latest builds using “Ultrahand” or some schematics you have unlocked that you can build using either parts on the ground or by consuming a new resource called zonaite.

So yeah that’s the end of the new abilities. And I really like them. I was expecting the old power and some new ones but I didn’t expect only new ones.

7. Rapid fire list of new things I liked

Alright my stamina for finishing this rambling list of things I want to mention is dwindling so I’ll just rapid fire a numerical list of things I enjoyed.

1. New sages abilities and they join you in fights after each temple. With the exception of maybe the last sage and Sidon’s abilities. I really enjoyed having the sages by my side as I jouneyed around Hyrule. Even if they got in my way.

2. Lady Yona. Thank you Nintendo for bringing some new fish love. Honestly I love Lady Yona’s design. It’s so great. Her face is so wide yet so lovable. The fact that she’s also married to Sidon as well is great too. Though I will mention when I first saw Zora’s Domain I went back and forth so much about whether or not I liked where the story was going that I might have caused a small tornado in my apartment.

3. Purah’s new design. I love it. And so does the internet.

4. Zelda and Link seem to share way more of a bond in this game than they did in BOTW. So that definitely helps sell me on their romance. Since I definitely didn’t buy it in BOTW.

5. Ganondorf’s design. Just a great evil tyrant that you want to stop and face against. Such a good villain.

6. New house building was neat. You can now buy rooms and build a house yourself in anyway you want.

7. Geoglyph memories. Honestly the memories in this game were so much better for me. Maybe because they all weren’t about how a girl is worried she is going to fail and you already know it. Honestly the big reveal from the memories was pretty shocking to me. I won’t say what it is here, but know I was pleasantly surprised by it. The Geoglyphes were also way easier to find in TOTK since you are given a map early on, if you go looking for it.

8. Caves are neat and cool to explore through.

9. The Depths are both a challenge (almost too much) and a sight to behold at times.

10. The new sky layer of the map is giant as well, though sparse.

11. TOTK is much more “Zelda Like”. It has bomb flowers. Like likes. Gibdos. It’s little things like these that were missing from BOTW but make this game feel much more like a “Zelda” game to me.

8. Conclusion

So yeah. Lots of long ramblings. I know I complained a lot in this. But hopefully I still got the point across that I really enjoyed TOTK. It definitely isn’t my favorite Zelda of all time. But it’s definitely up there now. BOTW feels so much more like a prelude or tech demo to this game now. It still has charm to it, and playing it will definitely help you feel more attached in TOTK.

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foxybananaaaz · 2 years

Text

I've got a theory

Will Stephen may appear in the end of Moon Knight, or Steven and Marc(and hopefully Jake, and Layla and dreadfully Harrow) will appear in Doctor Strange. And yes, I know it may be a bit of a stretch, but hear me out.

Let me Explain

(Below the cut though, cause long post)

Let's start of with how much the show of Moon Knight does not feel like it's a part of the MCU at all. It feels very disconnected from the rest of the MCU. There are no references to what has happened in the past.

There has specifically been no mention to the war against Thanos. No mentions about the 'blip' in Moon Knight at all. Yes there is the same excuse, the same 'reason' given that the Eternals gave. "We decided long ago not to interfere in human affairs."(paraphrase)

The difference being that in the Eternals, this answer was given specifically when asked regarding Thanos. In Moon Knight this phrase was given in general, and not to answer a question, though to remind Konshu of a fact, in conversation.

This one sentence, so similar between both film and tv show, could be a perfect representation of a Red Herring in Moon Knight.

If you need a refresher or are unaware of the literary term Red Herring, I have explained it, given an example of it from Harry Potter, and touched on possible Red Herrings in Moon Knight already in a previous post. I have also, in the same post, explained how Jake Lockley is currently standing as a Chekhov's Gun not yet fired. If you wish to read this post, Please click HERE.

In every film and show since endgame, we have had reference to Thanos or the war against him, except Moon Knight.

Spider-Man Far From Home :: Mentions/Visuals of the Blip, and Tony's death.

WandaVision :: Vision is supposed to be dead and people outside the Hex mentions that frequently, and seeing people in a hospital Blip back into existence after five years.

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier :: Sam having a hard time getting a bank loan(I think) because he has no records for five years.

Loki :: Thanos killed our Loki, so this Loki, is a vatient created from the time traveling events from Endgame.

Black Widow :: Mid credit scene references Natasha's death from Endgame.

Eternals :: Dane flat out asks why Eternals didn't help fight against Thanos.

Hawkeye :: Clint suffering severe survivors guilt, over Natasha's death. Yelena blipping away, and back again. Yelena getting personally, revengefully, invested on a hit job she was hired for because the target is the man she believes killed her sister(Clint Barton)

Spider-Man No Way Home :: References to Tony's death, in way of news reporting someone stealing important objects from Tony's lab(?) that turns out to be Happy.

Moon Knight :: Nothing. Absolutely Nothing. Except for a potentially perfect red herring.

The above indicates that Marvel has been showing that Endgame is a movie that happened, and has long lasting repercussions from the film, and also the fact that there is no mention to the events of Endgame at all in Moon Knight.

To take things one step further, the fact that Eternals begins in London, and Sersi, Sprite and Ikaris fight Deviants in London, the same city that we begin Moon Knight in. You'd think Steven would ask if Marc had had anything to do with those Deviants leaving London so quickly by now. Because if you're in the main MCU universe, scary unknown creature shows up in your city, you know there will be news coverage for at the very least a few days.

Mind you the two haven't had much time I get it, but if they could have figured out a way to squeeze it in and make it feel natural, that way it gives the connection to the rest of the MCU, while still being it's own Moon Knight show. But it didn't, and the show still feels incredibly disconnected.

So, what if the show isn't taking place in our main MCU universe?

What if, by the end of MoM, the characters of Moon Knight will be in our MCU main universe?

One day before episode five released, one week ago today, the TV spot for Doctor Strange that was released had a blink and you'll miss it moment. But I got screen shots.

We have Doctor Stange fighting against some Purple Magic. It wouldn't be that big of a deal if there weren't only two people in the entirety of the MCU canon currently with purple magic.

Had this clip come out before Moon Knight released I'd believe he was fighting Agatha Harkness no questions asked. But it was released during a TV Spot in the very middle of Moon Knight's run, where Arthur Harrow has access to part of Ammit's power through the cane she gifted her first avatar that has magic that is purple. It is also looking that Harrow will be Ammits new avatar, with more Purple Magic.

Let's move on, shall we?

If we are only in Moon Knight, and only need to worry about Moon Knight, why is it, that Steven needs to constantly need to emphasize that his name is spelt with a V? There are no other Stevens in Moon Knight. (At least the show, I'm not sure about the comics sorry.)

But each time he has to remind someone his name, he says his name is Steven, and then quietly adds on 'with a v.' Why feel the need to do that, unless...

You, or someone you know, are going to interact with StePHen, and need that way to differentiate between SteVen and StePHen. You're going to find a way to make sure others can call you and have the two people with the same name know it's you. Avoiding a similar "Peter? Peter Parker." moment in No Way Home.

The one that feels very very disconnected from all the rest, does conveniently end, just two days before the other releases and has the exact set up to potentially, conveniently bring a handful of characters with him to connect them with the rest of the MCU easily.

What if Moon Knight is currently taking place, somewhere else in the Multiverse?

No, it doesn't have to be long, and I'm not really wanting it to be long. My theory is just that Doctor Strange may possibly arrive in the Moon Knight's end credits scene, or somehow our beloved characters(and possibly Harrow) may find themselves briefly within MoM.

Not finding a way to cleanly make Moon Knight feel more connected with the rest of the MCU, thus his possibility of returning left up in the air surrounded in question marks would be showing an incredible lack of intelligence.

Especially with how incredibly popular this show and these characters are.

Again.

This is a THEORY.

A THEORY.

That may seem like a stretch.

I am aware of this.

I just wanted to share my theory. So please don't get upset or angry.

#yes I used Yelena as my usual always there GIF #because I didnt know who to use #if i use someone from StePHens movie #may seem like favouring them #if i use someone from steVens show #may seem like im favouring them #and I love both #moon Knight #moon knight spoilers #stephen strange #marc and steven and jake #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant and stephen strange

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nekoprankster218 · 11 months

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probably my best Genshin moment ever, forgot to make the post the night it happened but I just remembered it:

a few weeks ago I was doing my weekly bosses and I always do match-making for the latest one in the Sumeru desert because of the second phase. I switched to always using Kokomi awhile back and was using her this time. I was playing with an Amber, forgot the other two but pretty sure one was either Ganyu or Shenhe. I do remember that it was an all women character team.

the Amber went down during the first part but that was only because she forgot to heal before the boss. the rest of us were able to carry until the point where dead teammates get revived.

then at the final part, people start dropping. I think the Amber dropped because she didn't get my heal in time. one person dropped because they didn't reach the shield bubbles in time for the insta-kill attack. forgot how the third person died but they lasted the longest.

I, Kokomi, was the last one standing with the boss at a little bit over half health. I was entirely sure the run was dead and it would be a matter of time until I was gonna drop. I didn't. the others kept cheering me on to solo it. I decided to just keep doing the motions of hitting it from afar, drop my healing skill when it recharged, dodge, go to the shield bubbles when the insta-kill was getting ready, and just do that until I died and not stop to type asking the rest of the team if we should just restart.

this went on for maybe like ten minutes. one time I almost dropped because I couldn't find a shield bubble at first, but I managed to squeeze in just in time. there were a few points where my health dropped dangerously low and my healing skill wasn't ready so I had to use healing food instead. I think I got full and couldn't use more by the final stretch. it was also because of this instance that I discovered that Kokomi's normal attacks still hit the boss even when standing in the shield bubbles during the insta-kill attack, so now I do that every time to shave off a little bit of HP during that period where everyone else can't hit it.

I just kept doing the rounds - normal attack spam, dodge, heal skill, find shield, food when desperate - over and over again thinking at some point something's gonna trigger to insta-kill me for taking too long like some other bosses do. all my normal attacks were under 1k damage 'cause my Kokomi's not *fully* built (and even then, I focused more on healing than damage) and also she can't crit, but I just kept shaving little bits off until eventually, half health became nearly dead. at no point did anyone disconnect out of impatience.

the boss finally goes down as the other three revive. they're celebrating, I'm shaking with adrenaline and shock.

the next time I had to do that boss, it almost happened again, but I think one other person survived with me in finishing off the final phase. I guess that everyone kept dying might say smth bad about my role as a healer, but tbh one thing is that since the boss keeps moving from one point of the arena to the other while my healing skill stays in place, people keep having to move away from the healing zone if they wanna do damage. but I also may have not realized what Kokomi's Burst does besides the water walking until just now googling it... okay oof I actually have been a bad healer.

#genshin #genshin impact #my post #my posts

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biffhofosho · 1 year

Note

HELLOOOOOO

I am back!! And ready to read this story before the next one drops! So exciting

Also I do not like this “angst” word in the mood, I appreciate the “hopeful” part but still.

I will deal with you later.

So, he visits often, mhmhmh, yesss

I LOVE THE COTTAGE, i wanna live there

She’s living my dream life, I WANT IT

Also I love how painful this situation is for him, obv he wants to obey the law and do his job but also he likes her so much. The fact that he feels at home with her is delicious

“The day will come, Hyunwoo, all too quickly when you’ll have to make that choice for real, and all the calculations and recalculations and misdirections and cloaking spells won’t be able to stop it. One day, you’ll have to decide what you care about more: your antiquated laws drafted by crusty misogynists and cowards, or me.” I LOVE HER SO MUCH

He is so stubborn, as she is, they both have a point! Tho of course I am much more willing to lean to her side.

PERVERTED TOWN CRIER!!! I love her more and more

Is he also capable of magic???? Eye emoji

This scene of her getting naked???? GORGEOUS

Like she is clearly calling the shots, but she is also allowing him to have her, to an extent at least and i am here for it

Mhmhmh, suspicious pill is suspicious

The forbidden lover trope. I don’t know if I love it or hate it, mainly because it stresses me a bit, but this is so yummy.

Also it is so hard to reconcile the fact that she lives like that in a modern world. I mean it feels like in the puritans age, like a long time ago, not a very modern world full of computers, trains and gyms.

Oh man, sex magic sound awesome

HE TAKING CONTROL LIKE THAT ;lskfnvl;adnf;landv;lksdn

“Don’t leave.

“I won’t,” he promised.” THIs WLL MAKE ME CRY LATER ISN’T IT????

Now they’re fighting. Fuck, that’s the angst!!!

SHIT THIS WAS SO INTENSE

ALSO DAMN YOU YOO!!!

I love how you include the rest of them whenever possible

“And he realized one other thing with paralyzing clarity: he was breaking his precious laws, too, because in the end, wasn’t love its own sort of magic, maybe the most universe-altering of all?” THIS IS GORGEOUS

He is in love and I am crying. This ending, SO BEAUTIFUL!!!!!

I absolutely adored it!!!!! All my witchy dreams have come true.

Now to wait till next week for the last story, that I will have to read in november when we’re back from the long weekend holidays.

see you soon!

I am made of fail and forgot to answer your lovely asks, my dear friend. Please don't disown me. Let's blame it on all the writing I had to do in October lol. I had PTSD.

Aw, man, and you even took the time to read my Shownu fic before the Kyun one dropped. Double fail on my part. :(

I know you're not an angst lady, but I love that ish. At least you know me well enough to know that hope is a necessity for me. No matter how disconnected I write my characters, I will always balance it out with connection, too. Put your trust in me, beloved!

Yes, this cottage was entirely too real to me, I think. I feel like I lived in it. In fact, I would live in it if I wasn't so concerned about spiders. But then again, if I were I witch, I'd just cast a barrier spell to keep them all out heh heh.

I think this was my first time of writing an established pre-existing sexual relationship, so I wanted their tug-of-war to really come through in the dialogue especially. I tried to let that stuff come through organically rather than exposition, but, yes, “home” was an important theme I really wanted to shine through. You know I can’t help myself on the feelings front.

I realize in writing a hyper-specific AU that not everyone would get into this, but I am really head-over-heels for my OC in this. I enjoy creating OCs for everything, but there was just something about Gray that had me especially in love. Idk

Ooh, girl, I love the inherent spice of the forbidden lover trope. High-anxiety? Definitely. High rewards? Fuck yes.

And, yes! That dichotomy of Gray living a simple life while the world charges forward without her is one of my fave things! She is wild and unpredictable and of the earth, and I wanted that sharp contrast to show Shownu why he feels so othered in the mainstream society.

Sex magic was majorly fun to write. :) But also, I wanted it to show how her magic is drawn from nature and the natural, which was meant again to reinforce the concepts I just mentioned.

Hahaha more connection before the disconnection, yes!

Girl, yes, you know I will always include the rest of the guys whenever I can! They’re a package deal. <3

Ended on hope, yay!!! See? Aren’t you glad you trusted me now? lol

Thanks for reading and analyzing as always, my darling. It’s fun to relive the stories with you as though we are watching another show together. <3

#gee thanks #the voodoo that you do #new bestie!#october vibes #i'm so very late in replying #you can yell at me later #and i will answer the other one SOON #love you!

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ebonyforged · 2 years

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@riddlethat

It's a dark and rainy night in Gotham, which is to say that it's the same kind of night as almost every other one Ebony has experienced. Almost a month now since she first entered the city, she's finally getting back into the swing of things, picking up her usual vices while she waits for news from her new... acquaintance. She has been drinking, of course, but now after four long weeks she finally finds herself locking lips with another stranger in a bar.

The promise of something other than making out off to the side of the dance floor is just starting to resonate between them when Ebony stiffens, her hands suddenly still on the other woman's lower back. She pulls away—there's lipstick and lip-gloss smudged into her corner of her mouth. "I'm sorry baby," she tries to sound apologetic, but she's already stepping back, betraying her urgency. "You're cute, really, but I have to go. I had fun." She does feel bad for leaving her there, wide-eyed and confused, but for the fifth time in only a few weeks, someone unknowingly calls her name.

There's no getting through Gotham quickly, not when she barely knows her way around, so she has no choice but to slip into Limbo under the cover of night. She curses Gotham, her choices, and him as she skids across the broken streets. Mabel crosses her mind, too, but she finds herself unable to hold any contempt towards the woman. It's not her fault that her boss is just... just—

Ebony reaches the building the call is coming from, and it's just entirely disconnected from the ground she's standing on. In Limbo, only the upper floor remains, but even that is broken up into pieces. There's a big hole in the floor, and through it she can see two figures. One is seated, faced away from her, while the other looms over them. Frustrated, Ebony damn near whimpers. Obviously, the building isn't floating in the Overworld, and she has no straight shot from here.

Figures her luck would run out sooner or later.

Outside Limbo, walls enclose her once more. While running up the damp and slippery stairs, she notes that the place is disgusting and in disrepair; exactly the kind of place you'd go to to tie someone to a chair and beat them. Ebony had stopped wearing heels ages ago, and thank god for that, because when she reaches the top floor she's already winded from the stairs, and the process of diffusing the situation hasn't even begun.

The door isn't locked—figures, who would come here?—and falls open to reveal Edward, facing away from her, about to take a fist to the stomach. Her timing is just right, though, because his assailant pauses, startled by the sudden interruption. She quickly notes that Edward's hands are not tied as well as the rest of him, and wonders whether that's a mistake on the brute's part, or a compliment to Edward.

"Fellas, I was just looking for a bathroom." A tough sell, as she's already got Ivory pointed at the guy's head. The man looming over Edward doesn't seem to have a gun on hand, but he looks strong. He steps back slowly as Ebony approaches, slinking past the chair. Her free hand lands on Edward's shoulder. She uses it as a counter weight so she can put her sole against the front of the chair, between his legs, and slide it backwards across the wet concrete, closer to the door she came through.

Edward's captor twitches, as though he's about to lunge, but a shot rings through the air before he gets the chance. He stumbles, clutching a bloody ear, and Ebony reckons they have at least a few seconds before he tries again. She looks over her shoulder, catching the P.I.'s eye.

"And here I thought Mabel told me you were on the straight and narrow. Or am I interrupting something consensual?"

#this is long IM SORRY but i felt the need to include what it is that eddie is distracting her from lol #it would be about half the length otherwise #since you noted hes an escape artist i went ahead and assumes he'd already be in the process of getting free #feel free to have the guy hit her a few times lol #riddlethat #v; Open for business. {main}

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wildestaugust · 2 years

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Invisible String • C.L

Author: Well… it’s been 3 months since my last update and I’ve got to say I was very hurt since abu dhabi :( thankfully the new season started with a Charles win, so it was only right for me to post the long awaited part 2 of ‘don’t you’.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, +18.

Part 1

"Mademoiselle!" A waiter approached her with a. umbrella quickly as she got out of her car with her bag over her head trying not to catch the rain.

It had been raining in Paris for almost a well, however, as usual, she had forgotten once again to put an umbrella on her tote bag. Graciously, she smiled at the waiter who was guiding her to the inside of the restaurant.

"Merci!" She said still smiling.

It was a Friday and, after a long week of planning, she had finally found time to enjoy a dinner at her favorite restaurant in Paris. That week had been exhausting with the fashion week basically consuming her. Luckily, the holidays were just around the corner which meant she was finally taking a month to rest.

She was sat on a table facing the big window of the restaurant which had a great view of the Arc de Triomphe. A month ago she had moved out of the apartment where she had lived for four years during college. Now, she was near the Champs-Elysées in a penthouse at Paris' 8th district which was much closer to her workplace.

Moving out of her college apartment was a very emotional process. She had many memories in that place, from laughter to sadness, from happiness to heartbreak and countless sleepless nights due to college work. That apartment saw, probably, the most tumultuous year in her life which started once she saw Charles on that GP.

It had been three years since the last time they talked to each other. She was wrecked coming back from that trip, clearly, she still had feelings for him when they spontaneously reconnected. It was on her first week back from that trip that she started going to therapy and her first task, which almost destroyed her, was to disconnect from everything that reminded her of him.

She was proud of how far she went from her first therapy to her last session which was a year and a half later. In the process of healing, she realized leaving Charles wasn't what she wanted but what she needed at that moment. There was a Neruda poem she read that said «love is so short, forgetting is so long», every time she missed him, she went back to that quote.

Their love shone like golden starlight but, it was also sad, treacherous, beautiful, and tragic. Realizing that leaving him was a necessity, she meant it in the most selfless way. True love wasn't only the act of being devoted to someone for your lifetime, it also meant leaving when the staying would've been more damaging.

Charles was the love of her life and, she believed that, regardless of if they ended up together or not, he would still be part of her life. She cherished their time together, they learned from each other what love was. She believed in timing, but most importantly, in growth and living the every moment. That was what mattered and what kept her focused over the last three years.

The atmosphere in the restaurant was something else. The live music was the best thing that night, a band was playing a cover of Amy Winehouse's Love Is a Losing Game as she drank the remaining champagne left on her glass while they sang the last verse of the song.

It was almost ten o'clock at the moment she looked at her phone's screen. Whilst she was enjoying her lonely night out, that same night the Ritz hotel was hosting an architecture event with one of the most prominent Italian architects that, coincidentally, was the one who designed the building where she had moved in not so long ago.

That was one of the rare occasions when she went to public events. Over the last three years she had managed to keep a very private life. After being quite exposed to the media for two years during her relationship with Charles, it felt much healthier to keep it that way, especially in a place like Paris where the social scene was very big.

The rain hadn't ceased and, very nicely, the same waiter that had got her the umbrella an hour earlier, was guiding her back to the car. She thanked him shortly after tipping him a few euros.

She drove away whilst Taylor Swift's re-recorded version of the album 1989 played. If she could think of Paris as an album it would be 1989 without a doubt. Paris was known to be the city of love but, like 1989, to her it meant the other kind of love, the hopeless one, mainly due to the fact that she had fallen out of love a few years back. She sang happily to This Love as she —coincidentally— drove past one of the locations where the singer shot a music video a few years ago.

She had found herself relating to a lot of Swift's songs and indirectly those were the lyrics that stuck with her during the process of her breakup, finding them, very, cathartic.

Once she arrived at the emblematic hotel, a valet guy took her keys and she quickly got inside after being escorted with an umbrella under the endless rain that was taking over the french city. The place was packed, and luckily, the protocol girls at the entrance didn't took long to look up her name at the guests list.

After being offered a champagne glass, she walked over to look closely at the exhibition. Before deciding on fashion, she was always attracted to architecture and if it wasn't for her undying love for the fashion industry, she was certain that she would've eventually become an architect, besides, her family was flooded with architects, more specifically, her parents.

It was amusing to read the fascinating stories behind the designs of all those jaw dropping buildings. She took a moment to capture a few pictures of the insanely spectacular designs.

As she walked, her eyes spotted a very familiar face. One she hadn't seen that close in a long time which quickly set her back to her teen years. What were the odds that they were going to meet up in the middle of a rainy night in Paris? Oddly enough, those were the same exact circumstances of the last time they saw each other.

"Hi." She said smiling as he immediately hugged her. His embrace was warm and suddenly a full film of memories started playing in her mind. She tried as much as possible to act normal even though inside, heart was racing faster than his usual speed at any Grand Prix.

She was in complete disbelief that he was standing there hugging her, something about his embrace always made her comfortable. His cologne was still the same, years after and he was still wearing the one she gave him for his twenty first birthday.

"My goodness! It's been years." He said in disbelief. Charles was still thinking the woman in front of him was just part of his daydreams, however, it all felt too real with his arms embracing her tightly.

"I know! How are you?" She asked still smiling.

She was taken aback by his presence after years without knowing of him, she would sporadically watch the races, specially the one in Monaco where he finally had his redemption and won. She hadn't seen the last few ones, however, she was aware he was in contention for the championship.

He looked a bit more mature, however, his hair still looked the same. He wore a turtleneck and glasses which made him look a bit funny since she always thought he looked just like Daniel Radcliffe in Harry Potter back when they were younger.

"I'm fine, everything has turned out great! How about you?" Charles couldn't stop looking at her eyes, that was the last thing he remembered of her.

It had been three years since that fateful night when they last saw each other. He never reached out but, occasionally, he would ask her friends about her, at least for the first year after the breakup. Monaco not only brought back the memories of their time together, it was also the fact that seeing her friends only made him think about her.

He had been living in Milan for two years and nothing could be more perfect in his life. It was the start of December and he was leading the championship, Ferrari was about to extend his contract for three more seasons, his clothing line was about to drop. Everything was a success and he was still in his twenties.

"It's been great. I've been living here for a while now. I think since the last time we saw each other." She explained. "How's your career?"

"Don't you watch the races?" He asked confused.

"I haven't." She said, pausing for a few seconds. Why would she admit it?

Charles didn't expect that answer. Like some sort of comfort for himself, he always thought that she would watch his races even though they didn't speak anymore. That was a big motivation for him, to have the hope that she was still proud of him.

"Oh... well, I'm leading the championship." She hadn't stopped smiling since she saw him.

"That's so awesome." She said. Nothing felt more gratifying than knowing everything he once dreamed when he was just a teenager was finally becoming his reality. He had come a long way from, the boy she met at seventeen to the man standing in front of her.

"I know, you were there when it all started." Charles smiled.

"I know." She was proud of him in every single way. "By the way, I'm a bit overwhelmed because I never thought I'd see you here." She joked but, in reality, that was a situation that she imagined for years. Whether it was on the streets of Monaco, at one of her cousin's birthdays, at a restaurant, anywhere, she was certain that at some point they would've crossed paths.

"yeah, my friend was supposed to meet me here but he stood me up. When I saw you, I was already on my way out."

"Where were you going?" She asked as they walked around.

"To Lorenzo's place. He moved here a few months ago." Charles had been receiving a lot of press those last few days and he desperately needed a little escape from all the buzz in Italy.

"Ooh, those are news to me! I haven't seen him in ages." she joked. "When are you leaving?"

"On Monday. I gotta go back to Maranello and then, on Wednesday, i'm off to Brazil." he explained.

"Why don't you come tonight to my place? I would love to catch up with you." She replied, not sure why she would suggest that, but again, it was Charles, there was something in their relationship where nothing felt too strange or too rushed.

"I'd love to, we haven't seen each other in years." Charles couldn't stop smiling. It had been three long years but, she hadn't changed, at least in his eyes. He still saw her as the girl who stole his heart at seventeen and broke it at twenty four.

They walked out together as their conversation kept going. She was surprised to know about his clothing line, after seven years she thought it was impossible for him to do it after the many restrictions in his Ferrari contract.

It didn't took long for the valet guys to bring them their cars. As expected, Charles was driving around in a Ferrari, it was similar to the first one he got when he signed for them back in 2019, however, she assumed it was a customized one for him.

"For a short stay, I'll say is quite extra your car choice." She commented.

"It's Lorenzo's though." He said smiling. "Do I follow you?"

"Sure. We're not that far!" She said as she got inside her car.

It felt weird to reconnect that spontaneously and casually with him, however, she couldn't be more excited to hear all about his career and his life. Back when he got to Formula One, he made her promise him to be with him throughout his career and, while that promise felt difficult to fulfill after what happened, the least she could do was to invite him and chat about it.

On the way home, he was all she could think about. She was reminiscing all the good moments they spent together, specially in Paris. Charles was the first one to encourage her to study there, he knew they'd be far away from each other but, if she was so understanding with his job, there was no reason for him to not be like that with her studies. Ultimately, the distance killed off their relationship but, it was never a choice nor a thought in his head, for Charles to tell her not to leave Monaco to study what she dreamed of.

The car ride felt excruciating. There was nothing to cry or be upset about, however, a certain guilt started growing inside of her. She knew their relationship was no longer healthy and that was the reason why it not only made her break up but also, it took her almost a year and a half of therapy so, upon learning how good everything had turned out for him in the last few years, the "what if" debate didn't take long to get stuck in her head. Of course it was a reaction produced by the fact that she was seeing him but, thinking about all those key moments in his career which she missed out on, felt a bit self-destructive.

She let out a sight of relief as she spotted the entrance of the parking garage in her building. God only knew who much she was longing to talk about everything with him.

"What happened to the other apartment?" he asked as they walked towards the private elevator.

"I moved out a month ago. It was too small." she replied as they got inside.

"you lived there for quiet a while, no? Was it 2020 when you moved here?" He remember it all too well. "I helped you organize everything, I think your mom even came in at one point and we were passed out on the carpet."

"You seem to remember it perfectly." she added smiling. "This neighborhood is much nicer and it's closer to my office so you could say it's a match made in heaven!"

"Nice. By the way, how are your parents? I saw your dad probably a year ago in Monaco, I think he didn't see me but he was on a bike." He asked.

Charles felt the urge to know everything about her life those past three years. He had given up on the idea that he'll ever see her again, to him, that night was their last moment together and, facing that reality was utterly hurtful for him during the first year.

He suddenly felt like a teenage boy looking at his crush on the first date, however, it had been over ten years since they met when they were high schoolers and, instead of a crush, it was the greatest love in his life who he was looking intensely at.

Something that always stuck with him was how understanding she was of his career, from his first ever competition, to that faithful night in Monaco six months before they reconnected. He hated just how much she supported him to the point of sacrificing their relationship for the sake of his job, he felt he didn't deserve it, to lose the woman he loved over his career.

At the end, it all worked out for him. He was reaching the prime of his career, his biggest aspiration in life was coming true. He was sure Jules and his dad were looking down at him, deeply proud of his achievements, after the many years of preparation and sacrifices to make it to the top. And while she wasn't there, it was impossible to forget the person that, with his dad, never missed a single race of his.

"They're fine. They've been living in London for almost two years now. It's just sporadically when they go to Monaco, usually, just to visit my uncle and my grandma." Just as she replied, she swung open the door of her place.

"Nice place." he said walking inside.

"Do you want to sit on the balcony or is it better here in the living room?" She asked while taking off her shoes.

"We should stay here, outside is cold as hell." Charles replied walking over to the sofa.

"Well, you're going to regret it when you arrive in Brazil because São Paulo is very warm around this time." She joked as she sat on the same sofa.

"You know they have beaches in São Paulo, right? Whatever, let's go outside if you want." Charles laughed. "I still can't believe I'm here with you. If i'm being honest, I thought I'd never see you."

"Really? Why? I thought the same at some point." she asked.

"When I woke up that morning without you... I lost it. I went back to Maranello completely lost, I even told Mattia that I didn’t feel like racing the week of the Turkish GP" A story that once was hard for Charles to tell, suddenly, felt cathartic as he was about to tell it to the one who caused it. "When I realized you weren't there, I was convinced I'd never have the chance to see you again, after all, I had to respect your decision on not wanting me to chase after you and, while it broke me, I would never do something to make you hate me."

She was stunned by his retelling of the story. That morning, she kissed him on the cheek while he was still sleeping and, cautiously, she got up to dress up again and leave the place while her best friend was already waiting for her. By the time she had left the hotel, Charles woke up to an empty right-side of the bed.

Before replying, she took the time to fill two glasses of Rosé in the minibar she had in her balcony. Charles laid on the couch while his eyes kept staring at her, it all felt like a sick dream.

"...I could never hate you." She replied handing him his drink. "It was just a lot. I barely saw you around that time and, it would've been selfish of me to tell you to focus on me. Although I couldn't bear the loneliness, I would've never make you choose between me and your job..." that selfless decision was still the best thing she ever did.

"Do you think we were too young? I mean, I guess when you end a relationship, you try to look for reasons and the 'what if's'. For the longest I tried to blame myself." he explained.

"I think so, our main problem was timing though. You shouldn't punish yourself, it wasn't your fault. "

"So you chose to leave me?" he replied more confused than three years prior.

"What else could I've done? you would've never put aside your ambitions in the sport to spend more time with me and I understood it. You can't just come here and tell me all of this when clearly it worked out for you because, as far as i'm concerned, your career is doing amazing."

"But you weren't there these last few years." Those words were burning her inside. Yes, she didn't regret doing what she did but, she wished she could've been there when his career was finally in its momentum. "You said we would've hated each other had we stayed together, and that made me want to die."

She was silent, never had she seen Charles as vulnerable as in that moment. His cheeks were red and his eyes were almost giving out on the tears. Her hands were quick to touch both his cheeks, caressing them softly with a smile on her face.

"I did it because I love you but, I love myself as well and that wasn't healthy... For the longest I thought of a future for us, I believed in us but, at the end, it was too much distance to handle." She replied.

"I'm glad you're doing fine, it's all I've always cared about." he said smiling. "The truth is harsh, I guess."

"And it makes me the proudest to know you're doing well at everything, we dreamed of this when we were young and now it is you're reality!" she said smiling.

"This is yours as well." At that point they both had left their glasses on the table. "I don't want to fight over the past. I think I sound like a dickhead."

"No, you aren't. I understand you." She stroked his hair softly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. I mean, you are doing it already."

"Why did you never tried to see me again? I ask because what you said a few minutes ago doesn't sound like someone who has moved on."

"Well, after that... I convinced myself that that was our last time seeing each other. I kept thinking about you, about what you said and, I realized that if you needed your own space then I couldn't be selfish."

"...I tried to push you out of my mind because I convinced myself as well that I would never see you again, however, for almost a year straight, there was a time where I would walk around the city and wondered if you would just casually walk by." She knew it was impossible to erase him so, all of her efforts, pretty much, felt like boxing without gloves.

"Have we just confessed we wanted forget each other?" He asked while his hand rested on top of her right hand.

"I don't think we wanted, it was more of a need to properly go on with our lives." she explained.

"And how did that turned out?" he questioned.

"life didn't stop, even if I wished it did. How about you?" she replied while pouring more champagne on her glass.

"I've missed you all this time. I had to leave Monaco to try to forget you because every corner in the city reminded me of you." As he said those words, she put both hands on each side of his face, lovingly caressing his cheeks that were red, which usually happened whenever he was nervous.

He stroked her hair, softly. A smile grew on his lips, the nostalgia washing him over as he focused his eyes on her face, detailing every inch of it. She wasn't the same but, to him she hadn't change, the light in her eyes was still there, the same one she had at seventeen.

She shouldn't be there with him, why would she? She had moved on, or at least that was what she tried to repeat in her mind. The closeness between them in that moment was like going back in time to those sleepless nights in Monaco, back when they were seventeen, laying in the bed of his childhood room idealizing their future.

Charles closed the gap between them as he slammed his lips on hers while his hand wrapped her neck. He never counted the days but, he was aware it had been over a thousand days since they last kissed. She found herself enjoying his tongue inside of her, exploring every inch inside her mouth as if it was the first time he did so. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling it back, letting out a soft moan.

"Tell me this is okay..." He breathlessly said.

She wanted it just as much as him, her soft skin burned at his touch. His cologne was driving her mad as she buried her face on his neck, enjoying the grunts that escaped his lips. Charles felt like he was in heaven with her careless touch.

"I need you, mon cœur." mon cœur, words that were too simple yet, coming from her meant everything to him.

Charles massaged her breasts once he got rid of her shirt, tossing it on the floor. He was so lost in the moment that doing it outside, regardless of how cold it was, didn't matter to him. He would lie if he said that he didn't miss the feeling of touching her.

His hands, softly, touched every inch of her body on their way to get rid of the skirt she was wearing along with her underwear, which he successfully threw around. He left wet kisses against the skin of her inner thighs, he loved burying his mouth deep into her and, even after years, he still felt the same emotions.

"ma chérie you look so fucking amazing." he said before spreading her legs a bit wider to devour her. "You're already dripping wet for me."

His tongue hit all her weak spots, making her let out moans after moans, proving that no one else made her feel like that. It wasn't a secret that she slept around with a few men during those last years, however, none of them caused that reaction on her, most of them didn't even made her cum which already was very telling since a vibrator did a better job back then.

the monégasque was enjoying listening to all her whimpers. after the break up there were a few women that slept with him and, while the sex sometimes was good, none of them were close to be like her. Even when he had everything to be happy about, he was miserable just thinking of how much he missed her.

"charles..." his tongue was pressed at her clit while his hands gripped tightly on her thighs. "I missed you." she said breathlessly.

"I missed you too, ma chérie. I missed fucking you." As he replied, he dropped his left hand to her ass, spanking it really hard.

Before she was about to reach her high, he stopped, which left her frustrated as she protested almost immediately.

"why the fuck did you do that?" she said.

"Everything takes time… first, i'm going kiss your neck and suck you." He said almost slamming his lips at her neck, sucking her skin, which made her gasp loud, his mouth did wonders but, she wanted him to be down deep into her. "second, you are going to get on your back for me." He added and while the waiting game was excruciating, she did as she was told.

He started spanking her ass, which was undoubtedly his favorite body part of her. She was trying not to fall apart in pleasure as he kept slamming his hand on her ass, however, it all went downhill since she was moaning his name as loud as she could.

"Charles!" She cried out.

"You look so sexy when you're needy." He cockily said while unbuttoning his pant. "I'm going to fuck that beautiful ass of yours all night."

He gave it one last spank and, without any warnings, he pushed into her. He cursed as he gripped tightly on her hip, he wanted to photograph every single moment of the night, from that sighting at the hotel to the desperate whimpers that filled the air as he thrusted into her.

"Tell me, has anyone else made you feel this good?" He asked, picking up the pace.

"Fuck no..." she replied whimpering.

She was melting at the touch of the only person who truly knew her. Not her parents, not her sister, not even her friends... it was him, everything was about him. Not only did he knew how to sexually pleasure her, he also cared for her, way more than he should've.

Without any warnings, just after fucking her from behind for what it felt an eternity, he flipped her to be face to face with each other. He slammed his lips against hers while her legs effortlessly wrapped around his hips.

"je t'aime, mon amour." Charles said breathlessly as he sucked her skin, leaving marks around her cleavage.

"Fuck me, please... make me yours." She begged while she pulled his hair.

Charles pushed himself into her soaking entrance and, without further ado, he pushed his hips against hers. He was cursing in french while she filled the room with the loudest moans he has ever heard. They both craved each other but their stubbornness fooled them for years into thinking their story was over.

His finger barely touched her lower lip, that was his weakness. Back when they lived together he used to wake up first since, clearly, he was always on his way to catch a plane, and it became a routine for him to wake her up touching her soft lips with his fingers, he knew she hated morning kisses before brushing her teeth so that was his way of kissing her.

"Fuck!— You fuck me so good." she moaned.

"You're so fucking hot." he replied picking up the pace.

she was completely losing her mind as he rocked his hips back and forth. Her nails carved into his back as she tried to keep herself together.

Charles managed to be rough and gentle at the same time, he was fucking her into oblivion while simultaneously saying the most beautiful things very close to her ear. He knew he wouldn't make the same mistake twice of letting her go.

As cinematic as it felt, with their eyes locked in each other and his hands on both sides of her face, they came together, letting out insanely loud moans for the whole city to hear. He rested his head between her breast, leaving soft kisses around them.

"I wish we had met, at least, five years after that new year's party." she said breaking the silence in the room while she stroke his hair.

"Why would you say that?" he asked confused.

"Because we are mature now... I don't blame myself for what I did years ago but, I believe that, if it had happened in this time, we would've handled it better." she replied.

"Well, I agree with you on that one, but this is where we are right now, we can only look forward." he said moving his fingers slowly on her skin.

"That's the thing, I won't be able to go on with my life after this." she replied placing a pillow on top of her face.

"Fuck it, why don't we try it again?" he said.

"what did you say?" her heart started pounding so hard as soon as she heard those words.

"You heard me, let's give ourselves another chance." his smile grew wider as his thumb, lightly, brushed her lips.

"Charles... I don't want to suffer again, trying to move on was already hard for me." she explained.

"Don't you get it? You're the woman I'm meant to marry, I'm sure of that!" he assured her embracing her tightly.

Silence ruled inside the room, his words kept repeating inside her head as she thought about a proper reply. He was her first everything, but... could he be the one? Was such a thing truthful? Thinking back to the times they had spent, it was hard to believe that she could go back into her daily life after that sudden reconnection they had, perhaps that was the question, to stay or to let go.

"Let's say, hypothetically, that we try this again, how are we supposed to see each other if i'm here and you're in Italy?" she questioned.

"Come with me to Brazil, that's the last race... after that, I can stay here with you for the rest of the winter break." he said without hesitation. "I can't promise you that we won't fight or have our bad days because, who doesn't? however, I can assure you I'll do everything better."

"I don't want to lose you again, believe me, I wouldn't bear it." she said with sincerity. it wasn't hard to imagine that all the experiences they shared together helped her to make a decision, however, stepping into a new relationship with him made her fearful because, certainly, she didn't want to hurt him more than she had done years ago.

"We found each other, that means something, don't you think?" he said while looking at her teary eyes. "don't cry, mon cœur."

Charles had determination. He wanted his life to be how he had projected it since he was a teenager, and that projection wouldn't be complete if she wasn't in his life. He had been given a second chance and he certainly wasn't a man to lose out on opportunities.

The days went by fast. Charles brought some of the stuff that was in his brother's apartment to her place, including his favorite piano. He loved to play it for her every morning when they lived together in Monaco and, definitely, he wanted to keep up the tradition in Paris. As much as she kept repeating that they weren't officially a couple, Charles knew that they were on the right path.

On the plane to São Paulo, they talked throughout the whole flight. The thing about reconnecting after a three years is that people change a lot in such a short time. She learned a lot about his life and what he had been up to at ferrari, she also didn't know that Lorenzo had a child the year before, which meant she was, unofficially, an aunt.

Charles had also been in a short relationship a year and a half after they broke up for good, her name was Kelly and they only lasted four months. Contrary to him, she had a few hook ups throughout that time, however, nothing serious came out of it. That weekend brought them closer than they already were.

During those days, there was not a single moment where they weren't all over each in the most subtle ways. The Ferrari garage was filled with excitement as Charles lead, over Red Bull's Verstappen, could seal the championship as he only needed another win.

The atmosphere was certainly something else, they didn't expect a lot of tifosis to travel all the way to south america, however, when the race day came, the crowd was just a sea of ferrari and italian flags.

"You're my champion." she said kissing him as they were in his driver's room "Whatever happens out there won't matter because i'm proud of you." She held him tightly and her mind immediately went back to 2018 when they shared a similar moment before his first ever F1 race, somehow bringing them into a full circle moment.

"You have no idea what it means to me that you're here." he said kissing her again.

As soon as he left the garage, she sat down with Lorenzo and his wife while they waited for the race to start. The Leclerc's were shocked when they found out she was traveling with him, particularly, Pascale. His mom loved her, and that feeling was certainly mutual.

"I'm glad you guys are giving yourselves a second chance." Lorenzo said as he gave her the ferrari headphones to hear Charles' radio messages throughout the race. "You know we appreciate you a lot."

"Oh Lolo! we're starting all over again, to see where this takes us." She smiled.

Everything happened so fast that it felt like a very vivid dream. The race had a thrilling start with Verstappen in the lead, however, the spirit in the ferrari garage was so high that they knew charles was going to fight back. Eventually, after the second pit stop, Charles had managed to get out of the pit lane before Max, which automatically gave him the lead with 10 remaining laps.

The red bull fought back many times, however it all felt too real when the ferrari mechanics started rushing outside. And then, everything made sense when Lorenzo embraced her while she heard screams coming out of the headphones.

"Oh my god!" she said in complete disbelief. His mechanic gave her his headphones to talk with him. "You did it, mon cœur, champion du monde!" she shouted while crying. They were all visibly emotional, and before she could get out of the garage, there were already dozens of cameras surrounding her.

As soon as he got out of the car, he went straight to her, and even with the loud cheers from the crowd, she could hear him cry loudly even with the helmet on. They dreamed of that since they were teenagers, all those days they spent in her room idealizing their futures were playing in her head over and over.

"Je t'aime, mon cœur." he said with the biggest smile on his face.

After his post-race interview, it was time to get on the podium, and as he got on that top step, his eyes were set on her for the whole time, the euphoria around him didn't matter because all he cared about was the woman standing next to his brother, the one who once was a teenager that dreamed with him about all of that, and after years, she got to witness what they talk about endlessly. He couldn't predict what would happen after that night, however, if he was certain of something, it was undoubtedly that he would do everything to give her all she wanted, even if it meant moving again to another country.

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